Prompted Oneshots
by The Duelist's Heiress
Summary: A series of oneshots written from some prompts I found on LJ. My Fortieth Oneshot: "I wouldn't go as far as to say it hasn't been pleasant, Dear One." My father exhaled loosely. "I do enjoy spending time with you without a desk between us." He smiled wryly. "The instances happen so rarely." Continuation of Shot #39.
1. With This Ring

**D.H. A.N.: **Alright this is the first of a little self imposed challenge. I found a list of prompts from a couple of Live journal communities. This one comes from "30 Days", the prompt being "Don't worry, I'll always be by your side."

I'll give fandom & pairing every time I post one, and necessary background info.

**# 1:Yu-Gi- Oh! OC X OC shipping: Amethysteel (Sheon Yagasawi X Mheralo Ishtar) **

**A.N. 2: **Sheon met Mhera at the age of nine (his age), and encountered her again eight years later, though they've had their tests throughout, they've been together ever since. Now, let's see how Sheon proposes to her. Enjoy **With This Ring.**

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With This Ring

Sheon Yagasawi fiddled silently with the hidden ring in his shirt pocket. When the table he had reserved pristinely perfect, with white table cloth, and rose laden vase, the plan was set. His shift was almost over, after which he'd finally be able to get down on one knee, and profess his love for the thousandth time to the love of his life; the one who he would gladly die for. He sighed running a hand through his black hair, once again fiddling with the engagement ring in his pocket.

His gray eyes gazed at it again, visualizing his future fiancée's answer. The ring was just like her, beautifully elegant and simply complex; the design consisting of a rose cast in amethyst, with a small diamond in the center, with twin gilded leaves below, all on top of a silver ring. He stowed it back into his shirt pocket to wait for the plan to commence.

_Where is he? Surely, he couldn't have blown the cover this easily. Her father is not who one I would expect to have loose lips in any circumstance, especially when it concerns his life's purpose. _Sheon thought slowly.

Sheon sighed as he thought about the father of his future wife. He knew the idea of Mhera being her father's primary life purpose wasn't one to be taken lightly, for it had proven to be somewhat true. He thought about his difficulty of asking for her hand, smiling at how, even after fifteen years of dealing with the issue, his nervousness had still gotten the best of him; although, neither of the conversationalists were surprised at the detail.

_**Flashback**_

Sheon ran his hands through his pants pocket feeling the notes, that he had folded enough to let them fit inside, hoping that he wouldn't need them. His hand wavered as he rang the doorbell; he knew that only one person would answer. He had been used to seeing the amethyst eyes of Marik Ishtar behind the door, but now Sheon felt sweat start trickling on his palms, and the phrase "Mr. Ishtar, I'd like to marry your daughter." almost bursting out of his demeanor. However, yet Sheon could tell that he had been able to hide it somewhat flawlessly, as he was somewhat welcomed into the home with a somewhat forced smile from his host. As he entered, Sheon heard puzzlement in Marik's voice. "If you're here to see Mheralo, she's working today." Sheon heard the door close behind him; it was now or never.

"I came to ask something of you, sir." Sheon responded, trying to push his nervous feelings aside for the moment.

"Oh, and what would you need to speak with me about?" Marik's eyebrow arched slowly.

Sheon started to finger his notes now more than ever.

"Take your time, Sheonel Yagasawi; I can wait." Marik sighed slowly. Sheon sighed, he wanted so badly to blurt out his request, but no; he had to make this request with much more professionalism than that. Marik's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "We could take a seat if you would like." He suggested; a suggestion Sheon took hastily.

There were three faded brown leather chairs that caught Sheon's eyes upon entering the spacious kitchen, the closest of them to the door was soon occupied, as Marik took a seat, forcing Sheon to take the seat across from the platinum blonde; as this conversation somewhat required the two to be face-to-face.

Marik threaded his tan fingers together; placing them gently under his chin, his elbows somewhat perched on the edge of the mahogany table with an expectant expression on his face. "Well, Sheon, what can I do for you today? You know I am more than happy to help you in any way I can."

Sheon's palms began to sweat profusely. "It concerns your daughter, sir."

"Which one; you forget that I have two." Marik said, his expression unchanging.

"The one who holds your eyes as their own." Sheon watched Marik's face twist into a surprised smile.

"And…?" Marik half-drawled.

"I…I request your permission to have her hand in marriage!" Sheon almost blurted. _Smooth, Sheon; real smooth. _His mind mocked.

Sheon watched Marik's face as it straightened, turning into a triumphant grin soon after. "I knew it." Marik murmured softly. "Somehow I knew you were the one for her." He turned his eyes to the door slyly. "You have certainly proven yourself." Sheon paled slightly as he caught sight of a set of keys hanging on a peg attached to the wall to his right.

"You have my permission to propose," Marik sighed, turning his gaze back upon his now possible son in law. "But I have one condition."

"Name it." Sheon said daringly.

"I get to help. Sheon, you must admit that if you invite her she will know something is up; but if you set up everything and have _me_ bring her, you'll be less suspect." He then half-smirked. "But just to be sure I have made the right decision, tell me; how will you treat her, support her, and will you love her until the day she dies?" Tears began coursing down Marik's face at his last question, and Sheon knew why.

"You miss her, don't you?" Sheon asked delicately, referring to Marik's wife, who died shortly after Mhera was born.

"Yes Sheon, I do." His voice was unusually soft. "She died in my arms. I miss her dearly; that's why I'd rather see her traits and behaviors in Mheralo rather than my own." The softness left his voice, "If she says yes, and I don't doubt she will, you must treasure every moment, for once she's gone, you'll only have memories, and those are never good enough." He smiled slightly. "Filiron would have liked you. She was the only one who could get the error of my ways through my head." Marik sighed, a touch of reminiscence in his voice. "She was so opposite me, I am surprised she said yes, and yet I was always sure she would. You shouldn't be; it's obvious Mheralo has feelings for you."

"Can I show you the ring?" Sheon asked curiously

"No. That ring is for your eyes only. Did Mheralo ever tell you what happened when I saw the first one you gave her?"

"No."

"I ripped it from her neck out of contemptuous fury. That's why you found it, repaired, on your doorstep before the auditions for Phantom. You were the one who won her heart, the ring was yours to give, not mine." Marik sighed.

"Should we get to planning this thing then?" Sheon asked, rubbing his palms together in anticipation.

" Alright." Marik sighed, removing his hands from under his chin.

_**End of Flashback**_

Sheon sighed heavily as he punched out for the night, a small smile almost creeping across his face at the sight of Marik practically dragging Mhera through the door.

Mheralo Ishtar brushed aside a lock of auburn hair, sighing gratefully for a chance to rest. Normally, she'd have no problem running a few blocks, but add high heels to the equation, and there was an understandable tiredness. "Father why did you have me put on these truthfully uncomfortable shoes?"

"I have my reasons, Mheralo." Her father responded calmly, smiling as he caught sight of the table, after which Sheon entered from the back of the restaurant, under the pretense that he was still on duty.

"Your table is right this way, sir." Sheon said slyly as he took the two to said table, where their drinks had already been placed, as Sheon knew their orders; a glass of water for Marik, and an iced tea with lemon for Mhera. Once the two were seated, Sheon departed, watching Marik for the cue.

Marik felt feelings of "been there, done that," and "Sheonel Yagasawi don't make the same mistakes I did" coursing through him. He needed an excuse, and a quick one at that. He stood from his seat, murmuring, "I forgot my keys," and slipping towards the foyer, hid behind the doorframe, out of Mhera's sight, but not Sheon's.

Mhera was sipping appreciably at her tea to which she had added two packs of sweetener, as to get a decent blend of sweet and sour. She saw Sheon from the corner of her eye and let a smile cross her face, forgetting her foot pain. "Is the tea to your liking Miss?" He flashed a smile that caused Mhera to blush. He then caught Marik's gaze, and let a nervous gulp pass his throat. "Mhera…remember the first time I gave you the ring you wear around your neck?"

Mhera fingered it slightly with a smile. "Yes Sheon, I do remember."

"Do you remember what I said about loving you and no one else?" He asked, knowing that he paraphrased it.

Mhera sounded perplexed, "Yes; why?"

She was surprised when Sheon took a black velvet box from his pocket, and kneeling on one knee opened it, revealing the amethyst engagement ring. "I still do." Sheon heard two gasps of astonishment. "If I had multiple lives, I'd give each and every one for you. I will cherish and treasure you always. I will never harm you and may the higher powers help anyone who tries." He hesitated as Marik's gaze seemed to say "And…", after which Sheon continued, "I will love you until the day I die, and if you go before me I shall forever hold your memory in my heart. With this ring, I hold myself to the vow I have made known to you." He set the ring on his lap, and held Mhera's right hand in his two. "Mheralo Rylae Ishtar, will you marry me?" His gray eyes exuded love.

Mhera blushed deeper than ever. Ever since her father had spoken of his proposal to her mother, she had only hoped for a similar experience. "I will. But…" Mhera hesitated. Unseen to the two, Marik raised his eyebrows at this last statement.

"But what?" Sheon asked softly, eyes unwavering.

"You have been in so much danger because of me." Tears were crowding her amethyst eyes.

"As have you because of me. Mhera, I love you; not because of status, wealth, or beauty; but for who you are. Our shared conflicts only made our love stronger. Are my words false?" Sheon finished softly.

"No." Mhera's voice was a whisper. "Sheon, you'd really-" She was cut off as Sheon took her into his arms.

"Yes, Mhera. I will always be by your side, but only if you want me to." Mhera's next action took him by surprise as she softly sang to him.

"Say you'll share with me one love one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you."

Sheon came in with the harmony from All I Ask of You from the Andrew Lloyd Webber Musical, The Phantom of the Opera that they had played the demanding parts of Christine and Raoul in seven years prior.

"Say you'll share with me each night each morning."

"Say you love me." Mhera sighed.

"You know I do." Sheon melodically reassured her.

They both sang. "Love me that's all I ask of-"

But the last note of the melody never came. Mhera pressed her lips against Sheon's, gripping his shoulders, and running her tan fingers through his thick raven-colored hair. Sheon quietly slipped the ring onto Mhera's left ring finger, and, tossing the box aside, stroked her cheek once, and held her close, knowing that he could easily fulfill his promise for a lifetime.

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**DH: **What do you think? I'm sorry for the big PDTO spoiler in there, but I couldn't resist. I'll post more one shots here soon. If you want to see the PDTO Cast List, look at my live journal entry for April 15th. Thanks.


	2. The Traits I See

**D.H. A.N.: **I stand corrected, the community these prompts are from is called 30 Nights. Regardless of the title, I'm back with another prompted one shot, this prompt being "Like an art piece."

**# 2:Yu-Gi- Oh! ****Bond: Marik & Mheralo Ishtar; ****Cannon X OC shipping: ****Slight Jewel (Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae)**

**A.N. 2: **This is a blend of relationships, and feelings. There is a certain rhythm to this piece if you will, but it varies. This is my first attempt at Marik through 1st Person POV, a POV you will only see in these one shots. I apologize for it being so short. Please enjoy **The Traits I See.**

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The Traits I See

She is like her mother more so than me. Her eyes are the only trait that I can truly claim as mine. Her face is fair, temperament plain, save when it flares.

The traits I see are those of a combination only an artist could manage to bring together in perfect harmony. Her hair, my eyes, her depth, my mind, I could go on about how she is like an art piece, but one would only see the true magic if they could overlay the face of my Mheralo upon the face of my dear Filiron Rylae.

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He misses her so very much. I cannot tell which of them he would rather see in me; the traits of my mother or he. I see my father whenever I flash one of my rare conceited smirks; yet even then I cannot help but think he sees the image of his lost beloved in my slightly defiant expression.

There are traits I see in him that somewhat perplex me as to where they come from. His soft gentle voice he uses often, his endearing gaze that he somehow wills it with the refusal to freeze me where I stand, although the ice is always there and he could use it at will. In essence when all these elements are in him, my father is an artist's finest accomplishment, one that leans in both cold and warmth, effectively acting in an equality that I'm certain if placed upon anyone else, would be inefficiently executed.

I'm certain that they were for each other and no one else. But their happiness was cut short, and therefore, it is understandable that my mother's traits would be the traits my father sees in me.

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The traits I see come back to me as often as I need, the memories I hold of them are those which I could only hope to share with the one who has the traits I'd rather see, the traits that are of my sweet Filiron, rather than me.

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**D.H.:** These Prompts are interesting to do, and have allowed me to vastly open up my characterization repertoire. I hope that wasn't sad; although it kind of reads that way, it lets me explore the characters' minds more, which is the purpose of my one shots. Please review. Thanks


	3. An Oasis In Her Eyes

One Last Date

**DH AN: **I'm back with another prompted one shot; this prompt being "One Last Date." This is another fictional pairing of mine, and **Jewelshipping **does not exist on a shippers list. If you doubt it, I have a link to a list on my profile to an official pairing list.

**AN 2 ( Background): **Marik and Filiron met in an interesting circumstance, (see **Jeweler **for more on this.) and, being Filiron had no where else to go, Marik took her into his home with no intentions of it going beyond a gesture of kindness. As one can guess, it became more than that.

You may see part of this later in **Jeweler, **but I'm unsure of what to put in and what not to place.Please enjoy **An Oasis in Her Eyes.**

**#3: Yu-Gi- Oh! Cannon X OC shipping: Jewel (Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae)**

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An Oasis In Her Eyes

He silently stepped into the room, eyeing every detail. She had decorated it to her liking, all in green, he noticed. But it was a lovely shade, one that traversed the lines between forest and emerald green so freely, as often as she traversed the lines between feelings of love and vexation from him. Something about her made him want to shout to the highest area available, and no, it wasn't the fact that she was his, but something deeper. He was brought out of his musings by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Amethyst met Emerald, as it had been doing for the past four months. Those orbs seemed to ask, "Are you lost?"

"Only in the oasis of your eyes, my love. " He murmured mindlessly.

"The what- oh sorry. I didn't know that you were talking to yourself, Marik." Filiron Rylae's light voice sighed.

"No. I wasn't talking to myself." _But I was talking out loud. _Marik Ishtar mused.

He slyly took her hands into his own. "I have a surprise for you." He said softly in her ear.

"Really? You've been saying that for weeks. Are you speaking the truth this time?" Filiron's emerald eyes permeated into his mind, begging the truthful answer that he was prepared to give her.

"It should be ready. " Marik responded, leading her out into the corridor. "Close your eyes, and trust me." Marik said once they had taken a few steps into the hallway. When Filiron closed her eyes, he smiled outwardly, but inwardly there was a frown there because he no longer had sight of those emerald eyes that had brought him from his solitude. His life had been like a desert,; only at eighteen years had he found the oasis in his life, an oasis by the name of Filiron Rylae. He felt her following behind him softly.

They reached one of the wall switches. Marik pressed it loosely. "Don't be alarmed at a clicking noise; it's normal. Now you have to trust me. I don't want you to trip." He whispered in her ear. A tinge of red splashed on his face as he felt a light squeeze on his hand. He went down backwards; as his steps were careful., and so that Filiron could rest her head on him if needed. "We're almost at the bottom, Filiron." He whispered in her ear yet again. His boot hit the floor and the wall to his right rose. Marik hoisted Filiron into his arms for the next few seconds until he stepped out, causing the wall to slide back down. He was about to put her down, but she was so light and had already clamped her arms around his broad shoulders; a little while longer wouldn't hurt him.

Filiron had indeed gotten comfortable within the few moments spent in Marik's arms. She would open her eyes every so often to make sure she wasn't asleep, that this whole encounter with her amethyst eyed rescuer was not fabricated, that it was real, that she wouldn't wake and find herself alone. But every time she opened her eyes, Filiron was met by the same view of the one who held her in his arms. His amethyst eyes showed sincerity and security in his movement toward the destination that only he knew. There was even a small smile on his face. She leaned in close to him, whispering in his ear. "It's ready tonight, isn't it?"

"How did you know?" He asked softly.

"You're smiling." Filiron laughed softly.

"You looked, didn't you?" Marik asked, not expecting, and already knowing the answer with his smile growing wider as he heard her laugh.

Filiron smiled slightly as an answer. When the two reached a door, Marik set Filiron down gently, whispering in her ear, "Open your eyes, we're here." The instant Filiron opened her eyes, Marik pulled the door open, revealing a room that started at a point, widening equidistantly from there. About two feet from where they stood, the stone floor gave way to a blanket of lush green grass. As he led her onto the grass, Marik couldn't help but smile as he watched Filiron's emerald irises exude wonder and awe at the intricate simplicity of the room.

"Surprise." Marik whispered in Filiron's ear.

"Marik how did you…" Filiron's voice trailed off.

Marik set his hand on her shoulder somewhat shrugging, "All I needed was a spur to push me forward; I had planned this for years." He chuckled softly, "You still haven't seen the best part" Marik grinned, leading Filiron to the canal that cut its way through the room, beside which was a bush in bloom with white lilies. He carefully cut a bloom from the bush, and placed it in the redhead's fine locks, right above her eyes. He stepped away, eyeing her for a moment, after which he smiled for the umpteenth time that evening. "You look beautiful."

"Marik you remembered." Filiron smiled, removing her favorite flower from her hair, fingering it softly

"So I did." Marik replied softly, clasping his hand gently around hers. "I haven't added the final touch yet and request that you do the honor." He removed his hand, leaving a round object in Filiron's palm. He smiled, "Place it anywhere you desire."

"But it will take years to grow." Filiron sighed, holding it in her hand.

"It's a special variety of oak that reaches its zenith in seven years time. I hope to spend longer than that with you." Marik said somewhat frankly. By the time he had finished, however, Filiron had crossed the bridge.

"Show me that's what you really want." Filiron dared.

Marik crossed the three foot wide bridge, a tone of faux threat. "Is that a challenge?"

Filiron just stood still as Marik made his way toward her. He held her softly in his arms, and quickly kissed her on the cheek. "Does that prove it?" He whispered softly.

"Not quite." Filiron said as she looked into his eyes.

Marik was drawn to Filiron's emerald eyes that were a reflection of the oasis around them. Their faces grew closer, and closer until their lips locked. He pulled her closer and felt her arms surround his shoulders. He could feel she still had the seed in her hand when they broke their embrace. He backed away from her slowly, not out of fear, but of awe that she had kissed him again; proving that she was the one to lead him from solitude.

Filiron bent down, placing the seed right above where they had kissed moments before, then walked over to Marik, smiling brightly. "I still think you're worried over nothing. I won't leave you." She set her hand on his shoulder. "So, this oak; it'll grow in seven years?"

"Yes." Marik nodded, failing to notice that one of his bangs hung in his eyes.

Filiron blew the blonde lock from his face. "Well, we haven't a moment to lose, then." She ran off onto the bridge, Marik sprinting after her. It was going to be a wonderful start to a beautiful seven years or more.

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**DH:** I hope that was a little better in terms of emotions. I can't write two sad parts in a row; it's just not my nature. Now, there is another reason I wrote this one. Something mentioned here is going to be in the next chapter of **Healing Presence. **Please Review.


	4. Memoirs Of May

**DH AN:** I am back with another prompted one shot that could be considered an epilogue to **Healing, **and slight references to **Oasis, **and **The Traits I See.** I am using the prompt "It hurt to see you cry." Enjoy **Memoirs of May.**

**AN 2: Bold text **is part of the memoir, and text that is not bolded is part of the narrative.

**# 4: Yu-Gi-Oh! Father Daughter bonding (Marik & Mhera) and mild post-Jewelshipping (Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae)**

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**Memoirs of May**

**May, it's a month of renewal, one of promises of a new season. But for me, May is bittersweet, for, every year on the third of May, I mourn my loss of years prior, while trying to remember the joy of that same day. Usually my attempts fail, and those feelings of melancholy mourning remain, as does the memory of my beloved Filiron Rylae, forevermore.**

Marik sighed, remembering what he wrote every year, save the one prior, due to an illness. Tears crowded his eyes as he passed a glance to the portrait as he did everyday, but today, as on every May third; it was a different type of glance, one of fondness that also held sorrow. "I miss you so very much, my dear." He whispered to himself, aware but unconcerned as tears streaked across his face.

She stepped up to the door with almost inaudible footsteps, a drawn look of sorrow on her face. _He isn't ill this year, but… I won't let him mourn her alone. _Mheralo Ishtar thought silently as she knocked hesitantly on the door.

Three sharp knocks met Marik's ears, causing a slightly forced smile to creep across his face Fourteen years of earthly separation from his beloved wasn't with out consolation. "It's open."

Mhera entered slowly. She forced a slight smile, inwardly frowning at the fact that she knew that she was an everlasting unintentional reminder of the lost love once present in her father's life. But the smile was for the same reason that her father denied the continual reminiscences; the truth tried to hide in both of them. She gently set her hands on his shoulders.

"You're hiding something." He stated, after which her hands slipped from their position. "What troubles you?"

"Seeing you troubled." She remarked, silently remembering what had happened a year prior. "Will you be alright?" Her voice was wavering and doubtful.

Marik turned to face Mhera. "I will be." He murmured as he went towards the door. "I'll be back."

A phrase from Mhera halted him, "I won't let you go alone."

He turned to her. "Mheralo, I'm well; there's no need-."

"You don't understand!" Mhera almost yelled. "It's not because I think you'll pass out again." She started to sob. _"When I followed you down a year ago… it was like watching someone who I never knew; I feel that part of you dreads every May third, I won't let you mourn alone this time." _She looked him in the eyes. "Why… why on May third rather than-?" But Mhera never presented the other date, as Marik's hands changed into self-implicating fists.

"I have my reasons." He said almost too softly.

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**Every single year on the third of May I retreat to an almost unreachable solitude, one that I contented myself with for years. But after she saved me from it; I swore I would never return to take in solitude's false comforts. And yet it still reaches me on every third of May.**

**But the reason I choose to mourn on our wedding anniversary, rather than on another day, somewhat conceals itself. Only when I watch the gift that was given out of that event, do I fully understand; understand that if I placed the blame of my loss on my daughter's shoulders, I would be no better than someone I once knew.**

**Perhaps that reason is why I mourn in May, rather than September; why I mourn on the third rather than the seventh; because I know that my daughter had nothing to do with my loss, and it would only lead to my loneliness.**

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"As you wish, Mheralo." Marik sighed, resignation evident in his voice. He stepped out the door, with Mhera close in tow, pressing a wall-switch to their left. They traversed down the stairs, until Marik reached the bottom step, upon which he quickly guided his daughter around the switches, fondly remembering another who he brought down the same path many years ago.

Mhera sighed as she saw tears make routes down her father's face. "Perhaps I should have taken the other entrance." She softly suggested, referring to the shelf-switch in her room, which would have led to the oasis.

"No, Mheralo. I'll be fine... just let me find the right lily alone." Marik stated with emphasis on the first and last two words. He then went into the oasis, leaving his daughter at the door.

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**The lily is a common flower, but within its common simplicity, therein lies its significance. The fragrant blooms grace my senses at least once a year. It was my beloved's favored flower; not even a red rose could compete for her favor.**

**I always choose a special lily, not the largest one, but the one with petals that I need to be careful with, for that was how I needed to be with her. Sometimes the bloom that meets my unusual prerequisites just happens to be the largest on the bush.**

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Mhera waited outside the doorway, at an angle where she could see the seven year oak that was rumored to be planted where her parents had shared a kiss. _I wouldn't be surprised if that rumor was true. _She mused, smiling to herself.

"_Then consider it a rumor no longer, Mheralo. Your mother did kiss me there, but only after I kissed her on the cheek." _Her father's voice entered her mind, tones of fond reminisce intermingled with those of sorrow. He came soon after, holding two almost identical lilies.

Mhera looked at him quizzically, to which he responded, "I couldn't decide which one suited better. I figured you would be the best one to decide for me."

Mhera scrutinized the two flowers carefully, but the only notable difference was size. But it was quietly decided when Marik put the smaller of the two lilies into his daughter's auburn locks, after which he studied her for a few seconds. _Beautiful._ He thought to himself.

Holding the remaining lily in his left hand , and his daughter's left hand in his right, Marik opened a door on his left, and carefully traversed the steps. They stopped two inches before a door. Marik released Mhera's hand to turn the knob slowly, and gently, letting it caress him comfortingly. Mhera waited a few minutes after her father entered the proceeding room to give him a little privacy; this was his act of devotion. Though the vow traditionally said 'til death do us part', some things never left, and her father's devotion to her mother was one of them.

Mhera entered softly after him, kneeling beside her father's slightly shaking body, Her eyes caught sight of the previous year's lily, noting a small golden band around its stem. A wedding band.

Tears started running down her face, and she began shaking as well; amazed, and saddened, as she finally realized that her father put himself through this ordeal…for her.

She sobbed, managing to get a question out between sobs. "Why…why do you put yourself through this torment on an anniversary of one of the best days of your life?"

Marik hesitated before answering. "Because…I cannot bear to see your face obscured with tears." He paused "It was one of the best days of my life. That night, she gave me a note, one that, as you might guess, I still have today." He produced a note from under one of the tiles in front of him.

Mhera glanced at the note, which did not answer the question at hand. But it proved one thing; her parents loved each other. "But why the wedding band?" She asked softly.

"Because I knew I was bound to love her when I saw her eyes." Marik couldn't help but release a small smile. "The band is too small for my fingers anyway."

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Your mother told me that if she were to go before me, to mourn her not on the anniversary of her death, but on the date which began our life together, so that I can look to the day when she and I are reunited. I recall telling her something similar."

"Do you ever wish it was you who went before her?" Mhera asked softly.

"Not a day goes by that the knowledge that things would be different doesn't cross my mind, Mheralo. But somehow I know that she would be mourning me if the roles were switched." He began to sob ever so softly.

"It is an unending love that has ceased to abate, that is what causes your tears; not sorrow at your loss." Mhera shook softly

"You're partially correct." He whispered.

"But those tears, when they aren't for the right reason, bring sorrow to me, as mine do for you."

"Very true, Mheralo." Marik murmured. The two then waited in silence.

Mhera felt her father's hand leave her shoulder. He then left the room, softly shutting the door. Mhera then removed the lily from her hair only to place it in front of her mother's grave. She removed the wedding band from the lily, and bound the other two with the single gold band, without tears.

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**DH:** I hope that was a nice oneshot; and not too confusing. I don't know what to update next, but I will before June 1st. Please Review. I have hidden some information in here that was never in one of my stories before. Here's a hint: A difference of four on both details.


	5. What Will You Wait For?

**DH AN: **This is another prompted oneshot, based off the prompt "Peace at Night" I thought Keimo could use a little view, since we won't see him until the final part of the trilogy. Please enjoy **What Will You Wait For?**

**AN 2: Mhera 1st Person POV**

**#5: Yu-Gi-Oh!** **One sided** **Sibling cuteness (Keimo & Mhera)**

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What Will You Wait For?

I softly enter his room, the room which has been kept pristine since he left. I look at his desk, littered with papers and smile slightly, but only slightly, for I am alone until my father returns from his business.

But while I wait a thought crosses my mind. What is my brother waiting for? If he is waiting for my father to admit fault in their disagreements, I firmly believe that he's waiting for a desert to turn into a rainforest, something that will never happen. Somehow, I'm surprised that my father hasn't gone looking for answers beyond what I told him five years ago.

I sigh, absent-mindedly taking a soft worn piece of paper from the desk. I silently smile as I realize that it is one of my brother's compositions.

**What will you wait for? When will you let your heart decide? Who, how will, you choose? Tell me what will you wait for?**

My brain quietly begins to answer the questions as I read on.

**What will you wait for? When will you let your heart answer its call? Who will you tell the truth in time? How long will it take, should your will ever break to the point… where you can truly say what you wait for?**

I grab a pencil, only hesitating together my thoughts.

_What I wait for is the day when silence no longer holds me. I wait for the day when my heart holds me true. The day when our family once again, Keimo, includes you._

I put the pencil down, somehow feeling comforted, as if I am not alone, and that someone is watching over me, wanting the same thing.

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**DH: **I hope that was all right. If you like this one, I may write more like this. **Rite of Heritage **is next on update. Please Review.


	6. Alone With Amethyst & Steel

**DH AN: **Here's another oneshot. I might be putting these out a bit fast, but I get a lot of inspiration. The prompt is "Alone at Night" Please enjoy **Alone With Amethyst & Steel.**

**#6: Yu-Gi-Oh! Amethysteel-shipping (Sheon Yagasawi X Mheralo Ishtar)**

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Alone With Amethyst & Steel

She went to the slightly-hidden entrance at the mountain range base. The wind blew through her auburn hair to the right of her amethyst eyes. Her heart longed to apologize for her hasty action, and now was the only chance she had before he left.

She crouched low, waiting for him to pass, hopefully alone. Her patience was rewarded as a figure made their slow, solemn gait past her.

He knew it wasn't her fault, although he was somewhat shocked when she accused him. But he saw the look of horror on her face when she realized what she had done. To him, it was nothing but an accident. He could still hear her sobbing softly. He wanted so badly to tell her that it wasn't her fault, and see her amethyst eyes filled with mirth as they were when he met her.

His eyes quickly darted towards the rock formation where he thought he saw movement. He proceeded towards the movement's source, and heard soft sobbing. Only then did he see her. He went over, softly taking her hand in his own. "Are you all right, Miss?"

She took her face out of her hands to see a boy with gray eyes and black hair holding her hand loosely.

She smiled, blushing slightly at how he called her that. "You know you can always address me by my first name." But quickly her face sagged into a familiar expression of grief. "Sheon… I'm so sorry." She quickly tried to hide her face.

His tone was soft, "Don't be, I would have done the same thing. Are _you _all right Mhera?"

Mhera blushed even more. Her name sounded so soft, and light from his voice. It was as if his tongue had been ingrained with her name upon it. But that thought was slowly forgotten as she desired to answer his question. She sighed softly, "He got what he wanted, me scared." She smiled "But I scared myself."

A cold wind blew into their secluded location. Sheon released Mhera's hand gently, turning back on his way. "Please, don't leave." Mhera almost begged, following him.

Sheon halted, turning to Mhera and holding both of her hands in a silent wish that she could come with him, but gave it up. He softly whispered, "We will see each other again, Mhera. But, please get back where you belong."

Mhera nodded, the happiness in her eyes once more. She ambled back to the entrance, relieved, but feeling torn at the same time between love and loyalty.

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**DH: **I hope you liked it. I am really liking these prompts. Please Review.Oh, and it wasn't Marik who scared Mhera. Please Review.


	7. Ringing Memories

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DH AN:

This is another one-shot that could be considered a sequel to **With This Ring **so pleaseenjoy **Ringing Memories. **The prompt is "Finally together"

**AN 2: Marik 1****st**** person PoV**

**#7: Yu-Gi-Oh! Father Daughter Bonding (Marik & Mhera) & Amethysteel-shipping (Sheon Yagasawi X Mheralo Ishtar)**

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**Ringing Memories**

They are finally together. There is nothing I can do except provide support. I am bothered by the fact that I tried so hard to keep them apart, but destiny had other ideas.

Perhaps I always approved of him, and wasn't sure how to deal with it. . When I was forced into the play they did seven years ago, and heard them pour their hearts out in that duet; somehow I finally realized that I would accept no one else for my daughter.

Now as I prepare to give her away on May 3rd , I recall asking her why she chose that date, the anniversary of my own wedding. She handed me a note that I immediately recognized as one given to me by my own beloved on our wedding night, although it was written in my daughter's careful hand, rather than her mother's.

I asked to show me her ring again, and gazed at it, feeling a tug of familiarity. I then realized why. I gave Filiron a similar ring, the only differences being the flower was a lily, cast from emerald, and the metals were reversed.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, so I turned and saw my daughter smiling at me. It was odd, I realized. Mheralo's action was quite interesting; the gesture of putting my hands on her shoulders has been one of quietly confident faith, trust, and approval. I doubt she thought about this. I guess I'll never know.

She is becoming the person who I described in the letter I gave her. She whispered a "thank you" in my ear, and I was at a loss why she would thank me, I then smiled as I remembered that I unintentionally brought them together. To be quite honest, I wouldn't change it for anything.

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**DH: **This is my last update until Monday, because I'm taking the SAT on Saturday, and will spend time with family Sunday. Please Review. There was a reference from **Healing Presence** in here; can you spot it?


	8. Phantom of Love Itself

**DH AN: **Here's another prompted one-shot, using two Prompts. "He felt a soft hand caress his neck as the warm air of a whispered word ghosted across his ear." From 10 Inspirations, and "It's hard not to love you" from 30 Nights. Please enjoy **Phantom of Love Itself. **There are a lot of POTO references in this one. I do not own Phantom Of the Opera. I just like putting references from it in my srtories.

**#8: Yu-Gi-Oh: Post Jewelshipping (Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae) **

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**Phantom of Love Itself**

He gazed at he portrait longingly. It was not May, but September. _How odd_, he mused. _These two dates share a difference of four in terms of month and date, but that is where their similarities end. _On one day he gained her, on the other he lost her.

She was fair, emerald-eyed, and red headed; perhaps an angel only to him, and yet she had a facetiously headstrong side to her. One of mystery and secrecy.

But he was no stranger to secrecy, for he had secrets that he would rather stay that way. So the secrecy was well tolerated between them.

Marik froze as he felt as if a soft hand were caressing his neck as the warm air of a whispered word ghosted across his ear. _Love. _Then another. _Forever. _It was a phantom's voice. But it was true, he would love her forever, and if there was a sentiment that expressed sharing one love and one lifetime, and being led from solitude, it would describe their relationship so well.

To love her, that was all he asked of himself. He was bound to love her when he saw her eyes, and it was hard not to love her, just as it was hard not to express pleasure when his daughter came in the room uninvited.

Marik saw his daughter duck behind the door frame. He smiled at how much Mhera took after her mother. She had her mother's facetious nature; that was something that he treasured.

He glanced at the portrait, certain that love lasted for a lifetime, no matter whose it was. _Love me, that's all I ask of you. _The phantom voice said softly in Marik's ear.

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**DH:**I hope you liked it. This is the last update till Monday. Please Review.


	9. Angel Without Wings

**DH AN:** I'm back with another Prompted Oneshot Using the prompt **Guardian Angel. **Please enjoy** Angel Without Wings.**

**AN2: **"Arlomhe" is Mhera's alias. See **WTR's **second AN for timeline info. After **ASR.**

**#9: Yu-Gi-Oh! Amethysteel-shipping: Sheonel Yagasawi X Mheralo Ishtar**

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Angel Without Wings

**Mhera**

Sheon Yagasawi rose into her world with no warning, but she didn't mind. He spared her quite a bit of embarrassment, and for that Arlomhe was grateful, so very grateful. She gazed into his eyes, those warm steel-gray eyes. He had a charming smile. In a short phrase, she had fallen for him…

_**Ten Years Later**_

His hands were on hers, as soft and gentle now as they were then. They wrapped around her own with a protective nature. She stared in the same steel-gray eyes that not even a decade could change. She smiled softly at his touches.

He was her angel, her first and last defender. He would always protect her. He had proved he loved her more than words could say. It was ever present in his smile that never ceased to make her melt.

He would always be there, with her beside her, to hold her and to hide her. And she would do the same for him. She was taken aback when he took her into his arms and began to lead her closer to him in the guise of a slow dance.

**Sheon**

Arlomhe Sharti fell into his world with no warning, and frankly he didn't mind. He was a bit startled, but that was quickly disregarded when he looked into her eyes. In that instant, he knew that he wanted to protect her from anyone who would bring her harm. She was an angel in disguise.

_**Ten Years Later**_

He held her hands in his own; her hands were as delicate as ever. He wrapped them in a protective embrace. He was certain that he would do anything to protect her. He loved her smile; it was a silent reassurance that she would be there for him. Without that unexpected meeting, he didn't know where he would be now. Well, he certainly wouldn't be here.

He gazed into her amethyst eyes, those eyes that held him since he met her. She was indeed an angel in disguise. He would not allow her to be harmed he would always be with her, beside her, to guard her and to guide her. He brought her close to him, taking her into his arms and leading her across the dance floor. She looked in his eyes; he looked into hers, and they held each other in an embrace of love, lips locked with one another; they were in heaven.

**DH:** I hope this was cute. There were a lot of All I Ask of You references in this story, I just couldn't help it.


	10. Solace At Sunrise

**DH AN: **I'm back with another Prompted Oneshotusing the prompts **Red, Yellow, **and **Orange **from the **Fanfic 100 community**, and **First sunlight after the darkness **from **30 Nights. **Please enjoy **Solace at Sunrise. **I will also be using these prompts for a Jewelshipping story later. I must really be in an Amethysteelshipping mood this week

**AN2: **Takes place right after Battle City and ties into the** PDTO **Flashbacks in Chapter Twelve.

**#10: Yu-Gi-Oh!- Amethysteelshipping: Sheon Yagasawi X Mheralo Ishtar**

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Solace At Sunrise

A cold wind blew across the docks and into the fleeting night. She waited looking out across the bay with her hands balled up in fists. _I should be happy that all this is over, … but I'm not_ _…why__?_ Tears began crowding her amethyst eyes and rolling onto her face. _Why? _

She saw the first gray light of the sunrise, a soft steel gray, after which she realized why she was distressed. _The darkness was purged from my father's heart… I know that every person that his dark half banished was returned, but what about…what about…?_

She couldn't even think his name. He was her light in this dark ordeal, though most of the time he wasn't physically there. She was tried beyond what a normal person should have, surviving, all for that hope that he would be returned to her.

She had absent-mindedly started walking, and slipped off the wooden dock; she only saw a blur of reds, yellows, and oranges. She then felt herself tumble through the water. Somehow, she knew someone would rescue her.

"Wake up" A soft voice said in her ear. _"Oh, Mhera please wake up…" _The same soft voice said in her head. She opened her eyes to find herself lost in a warm steel gray gaze.

"You're back…" She said, somewhat stunned. He drew her towards him, ringing the water out of her hair.

"It's so good to see you again." He sighed heavily into her shoulder.

"I'm thinking the same thing about you, Sheon." Within the shades of red, yellow, and orange, it was very difficult to see Mhera's blush. She hesitated. "Are you all right Sheon? This is the third time you've saved me. I swear if you keep doing this, I'll owe you more than a thank you."

He smiled that smile that could melt her where she stood "Think nothing more of it. I'm just glad that you are okay after what happened earlier." He looked her in the eyes, begging the answer. "What were you doing here anyway?"

"Just thinking…" Mhera murmured

"About what?" Sheon asked softly.

"Remember when you asked me about sunsets?"

"Yes."

"I think sunrises are even more unique."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because the sunrise is the beginning of a new day and a new experience, and yet there are still the same things to look forward to."

"I think that this sunrise stays true to that description." He held her softly, and she felt solace in his embrace as she held him close. She smiled as she held him close, a sunrise was a beautiful moment for reunion.

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**DH:** I hope that was cute. Check out my new poll and vote, please.


	11. Sunrise Surprises

**DH: **I'm back with another Prompted Oneshotusing the prompts **Red, Yellow, **and **Orange **from the **Fanfic 100 community**, and **First sunlight after the darkness **from **30 Nights. **These prompts are the same as the last story, but it uses different characters. Please enjoy **Sunrise Surprises.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the lyrics to the song "**Let's Make It Last**" by **Brandon Heath**; I've just listened to the song a lot this past week, of my own choice. I just changed the lyrics to make it sound like someone is saying it.

**#11: Yu-Gi-Oh!: Jewelshipping: Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae**

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Sunrise Surprises

The faint trickles of moonlight met Filiron Ishtar's emerald irises. She had to catch him before he left; this much she knew. She stepped outside the room they had shared for the past year. He was so sweet; he had gotten a skylight installed in the room so that she could see the moon at night.

She saw him out of the door, past the hallway and in the kitchen. He wasn't looking at her, so she snuck up behind him. Or was about to when he turned and caught her eye. He glanced at her. "I know you're there." He almost smirked, "You give yourself away far too easily."

"Maybe that's what I want you to think." The red head came and sat beside her blonde companion. "I helped you out of that situation; that should prove that I know when to be stealthy."

"On the contrary, I wouldn't have been in that situation had I been going another way."

"But then, I would have never met you." Filiron paused, "Did you ever give a thought to that angle, Marik?"

"No." came the soft reply. "But I shouldn't need to." Marik paused, sighing softly. "I never did show you that sunrise I promised you…"

"Well, the sun hasn't risen yet; we can still see one." Filiron's suggestion was rewarded by quick kiss on the cheek.

"Did I ever tell you that you have excellent timing my dear?" Filiron shook her head side to side like she was playing a semi- silent version of twenty questions . "It's true." Marik whispered.

Filiron only smiled as she touched a hand to her cheek. "You're going soft on me."

Marik had no comment on that; he only took Filiron by the hand, "The sun won't wait for us." He led her through the many halls to the entrance at the base of the wall of stone that led to the outside.

It was cool, calm, and the sun had just begun its ascent. Marik held his breath; hopefully this sunrise would be beautiful, as was the beautiful angel beside him. He was right.

The sun rose, casting a brilliant display upon the sand, the purples, blacks and blues of night vanishing in wake of the vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges. The sunlight fell upon the desert sand, almost painting it like a brilliant piece of stained glass. The colors washed over the watchers, who for sake of preserving the moment, didn't speak.

Until Filiron remembered why she had really woke up that morning. "You're really going?"

Marik only nodded in response, looking to Filiron's forlorn face. "I promise I'll come back."

"I know you will." Filiron sighed, green eyes sharing a smile with her lips. Then she moved closer and their lips locked.

Her voice echoed softly in his mind as the sun cast its reds yellows and oranges over them.

"_It's the way that we love  
__And the way that we laugh  
__It's something worth feeling.  
__So let's make it last  
__Let's make it last  
__Let's live out each moment  
__'Cause they go by so fast__  
So let's make it last"_

"I'm sure we will." He reassured her as he released her from his embrace to watch the colors dance across the desert.

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**DH: **I love writing these. I hope you enjoy them too. Please Review.


	12. The Lies He Told Himself

**DH AN: **I thought I'd take a break from **Powers Revealed **and write another Prompted Oneshot prompt using "You were never mine to begin with." Please enjoy **The Lies He Told Himself. **The Sentences in _**Bold Italics **_will be used in a later chapter of **A Jeweler's Perfect Combination.**

**#12: Yu-Gi-Oh!:** **Jewelshipping: Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae**

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**The Lies He Told Himself**

_She will never be mine. _These were his thoughts on the matter.

_**I can't let you live with your solitude. **_She was only fibbing. Of course she could leave him.

_**It will be the death of you. **_She was only exaggerating. Loneliness can't kill; could it? Or was she telling the truth. _Is there any truth to her words? _Marik mused silently in his room. _She could mean something more, but the possibility of that is unlikely._

Surely she would have found someone better by now. _Why doesn't she want that? I cannot fathom why she would stay with me and not bother finding someone better. _

It was impossible for him to see how this could be plausible; Filiron Rylae could certainly have found someone better than him by now. Why that thought kept anchoring itself in his head, he would never know. She could find someone better, but why did she stay?

_**Because you challenged me to change… more than anyone has.**_ How? All he had done was take her into his home, and maybe begin to relinquish his defenses a little.

Yet, he would always fight to regain the defense he had lost. He was different when he fought. It was like he had a compulsive need to win, a need that led to more harm than benevolence. _Yet she always returns to me._

His mind was beginning to disprove his self-believed lies one by one, and found a certain peace.

_**You fool yourself. **__I fool myself no longer. The lies I've told myself no longer have a hold on me. _He smiled.

_Perhaps I'm never to know how this came to be. How she chose to be with me._

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**DH: **Okay. I will update **Powers Revealed **next.


	13. No Longer In Solitude

**DH AN:** This scene takes place before my oasis Oneshot, so keep that in mind. And the prompt is **You don't know what you have done for me**. Please enjoy **No longer in Solitude.**

# **13: Yu- Gi-Oh! Jewelshipping: Marik IshtarX Filiron Rylae**

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**No Longer In Solitude**

The silence within the room became unbearable. It was certainly clear that it could never be, so Marik turned away, remarking "I refuse to keep you here against your will, so you may leave at any time you choose." His voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. "But I want you to stay."

Filiron heard loneliness in his voice; loneliness that she had never heard in anyone, lest of all Marik. Her eyes resigned their usual apathy for sympathy. "No, Marik. As you refuse to keep me against my will, I can't let you live with your solitude." She hesitated before adding, "It will be the death of you." She finished softly. Passion began coursing through her voice. "Yes, Marik; it is true that our tempers clashed. Yes it is true that at times I wished to leave and never return. "She paused. "But something kept me from it."

She swiftly stepped towards Marik, wresting him to face her, much to Marik's surprise. But that was no surprise compared to what happened next.

His eyes met hers; amethyst cold had been caught by emerald warm. Marik lost control of his hands, which soon found their way to her cheek, relishing in how soft her skin felt under them. Marik brought her face so close that he could feel her breath on his skin. Part of him was shocked that she did not pull away.

Their lips locked. Marik's hands went to Filiron's shoulders, softly caressing the auburn locks that rested upon her shoulders. Once more, he was shocked at how the redhead did not pull away from him. With the lack of that gesture that would have been so easy to do, he knew she was his freedom; she would stay and would be his.

_But why; why would she choose to save me from my solitude?_ Marik's mind questioned. He knew that those questions could wait as he held her in his arms somewhat protectively.

Filiron stayed in Marik's embrace for moments more shivering in delight at his subtle touches on her hair. She felt as if she truly belonged, a feeling she had been missing for years. But the feeling of belonging she felt now far surpassed any other she had experienced. They broke their embrace slowly. She reddened as Marik stroked her cheek gently, and moved a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear as he did so.

He smiled slightly and… sincerely. She looked into his eyes and saw the ice melt away. But the ice quickly reformed in his eyes, causing whatever barrier that was brought down in the blonde to arise anew.

Marik felt the emerald orbs pierce his mind with a warm comforting gaze, breaking the barrier that he had taken comfort in for so long. That gaze had an unintended side effect, however, as it brought feelings of rejection to the forefront of his mind. _She would never take me, even if I ask. She could surely find someone better than me. _Marik started picking up the shattered pieces of his barriers that hardened him into the cold individual who was fearful of rejection; thus, he let as few people in as possible.

"You should just go now and leave me. I'm certain that you will find someone better than I if you would only look." Marik turned away from Filiron's emerald eyes.

Filiron had seen enough. "No Marik!" She sighed loudly. "I won't leave you. You have no idea how much you have challenged me you change. I want to stay with you, because you challenged me to change… more than anyone has.__I feel like I owe you something in return."

"You owe me nothing!" The platinum blonde almost spat. He shook with self-fury. "Nothing!" His sobbing voice echoed throughout the room. He turned to face emerald eyes that seemed to say, "You fool yourself." She then left him behind her, not hearing the tears caught in both their throats.

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**DH: **I hope you like this. Sorry it was a bit sad, and I will probably move this to **Jeweler **when I get there in the story. But I want your opinion on it now. Please review. I have had this one in a notebook for about two months maybe three.


	14. Canvas And Threads

**DH AN: **I have another Prompted Oneshot The Prompt is **Threads of Fate, **and I hope you enjoy **Canvas and Threads**. It's a little sad, have tissues handy.

**#14: Post-Jewelshipping (Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae)**

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**Canvas and Threads**

_A canvas always seems to be only one sheet to the indiscreet eye. But in reality threads are woven together in order to make the canvas thick, and not delicate enough that it can't be torn by gentle touches._

_But lives can also be considered a canvas. Someone must have woven these threads of fate together bringing amethyst and emerald without any concern, or idea that it wouldn't be the best idea to bring fire and ice together; and yet it repeats itself. _

_Often for the best…_

He hesitated to touch the canvas that bore the image of his beloved, now twenty two years gone. Marik was living in Domino, and he was amazed his sister was able to get the portrait to him in one piece, and grateful that it was even bothered to be retrieved.

"Threads of Fate." He said softly to himself, smiling slightly, "how fickle they are." Tears started down his face. "They give you one thing and then they take it away." Marik inadvertently balled his hands into fists, pressing his fingernails into his palms, unsurprised to see the marks of his nails in them. He always did that when it came to the bitter fact that the love of his life seemed to be taken from him prematurely, and he had never really gotten over it.

_This feeling will always remain. And I still feel her._ _I don't understand why she was taken from me so soon. _No, he understood that perfectly. The true misunderstanding was in the fact that he never fully admitted his full feelings for her until she was gone. He stroked the canvas gently, seeing that the threads of fate were not to blame for this. They only presented the opportunities, of which he failed to realize until it was too late.

_Fate has quite an interesting way of bringing things into perspective. _He smiled as he stepped away from the portrait, admiring it as he had done when the canvas was being spun and changed from simple threads to something beautiful.

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**DH: **I blame partial inspiration to this fic on the fact that I was listening to "To Where You Are." by Josh Groban while writing this. It always makes me cry a little, because I always think about the Marik I've written while listening to that one. I'm getting teary already. Please Review.


	15. The Phantoms of Midnight

**DH AN: **I'm here with another oneshot. The prompt is "At the midnight hour." from** 10 Inspirations.** There are a lot of references to my stories, and, of course, there are Phantom references too. Please enjoy **The Phantoms of Midnight.**

**#15****: Father Daughter Bonding (Marik& Mhera) Hinted Post-Jewelshipping (Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae)**

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**The Phantoms of Midnight**

Stars glittered in the night sky with a half-full moon shining its light into the window of the study, or as Marik preferred to address it, his second office. With the exception of the window, the room was set up in the same style as his former office; with the guest chairs situated near the door, and a filing cabinet to the door's right. His large mahogany desk was in relatively the same position, with the executive style chair backed against the wall with the window.

Marik knew for over a decade that for some reason, he was most productive during the late night or early morning hours of the night, whatever the case was. If it was anything, it was that he found peace in the soft music of the night. He sighed, placing what he had been working on in the desk drawer; he did not want this effort to be mixed with the other papers that littered his desk, papers of all concerns wishing to think they were organized. He had found the folders to organize his papers, but sadly hadn't found the time to do.

Forgoing said task once more for another day, he turned his chair to face the window, seeing the half-masked moon. A smile that was a slight grimace crossed his face at the moon's resemblance to a certain masked musician, whose role, or certain aspects of it, were all too familiarly tangible for Marik to ignore. Although one was O.G., and the other R.H.; and one tormented by loss, the other tormented by grief, both had lapses in their emotional control, and at one point their sanity hung in the balance. It was only a twist of one of the many threads of fate that had brought the similarities to the forefront of his mind. He stepped toward a mahogany shelf, and stood for a few moments.

The office style was not the only thing Marik kept similar to his former abode; he kept the title secretly given him by his daughter as 'the wall-switch lover' as well. There was one more difference aside from the window; the mahogany shelf was to the right of the door, rather than the left, but that was a necessary difference, as there was a wall-switch on that side.

Running his hand silently against the wall until he heard a clicking noise, he waited as the shelf slid away from him to allow him entrance to the hidden staircase.

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Mheralo Ishtar sighed, setting aside her in-progress essay on complex dueling strategies that she was only doing because of lack of anything better and because she had never finished this ninth essay; she was a little shocked that her father didn't hound her to finish this one, as it was about two years overdue. Nonetheless, she opted to finish the essay later, and satisfy the urge that had snuck up on her to go onto the roof. Grabbing the silver cloak that hung from the peg of her closed door, she wrapped it around her shoulders. She then opened the window and used the fire escape to reach the roof. Once there, she only gazed at the cityscape before her, finding peace in the late hour.

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Marik stepped up the staircase, and grabbed a well-worn leather jacket off the hook nearest the door, and donned it on his shoulders, putting his arms through the sleeves. He pulled the ends of the jacket near each other, and still held it as he stepped outside.

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Mhera had leaned on the concrete beam with her elbows, her hands gripping opposite arms just below the shoulder. She heard a slight squeak of a hinge, and was slightly surprised to see a well-hidden door on the roof. A small smile crossed her face, for she knew of only one person who would use secret entrances so freely. Her father.

Her thoughts then raced, unbidden, back to the last time she was even on the roof of a building. The note, the card that was never played, the whole scenario in general was somewhat pointless, but yet she had no other options. She shook it away, albeit only for a moment.

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Marik stepped out of the doorway, thoughts going to that same scene as well. On that roof, she was either to fall under his hold once more or surpass him; she was given only a slight choice, either way she had to duel him. He quickly shook the memories away. In matters such as this, he took the stance of the opinion that what is in the past should stay there, but in other matters that stance seemed so inadequate to take. There was one thing that would never be left in the past until his dying day, and even then… his love for his beloved would remain alive within canvas and threads.

He stepped out into the moonlight, feeling as if the soft light was examining his motives. It was only a feeling though.

He stopped beside her, gently placing his hands on her shoulder. He smiled at the worn fabric of the silver colored cloak graced his fingers. He almost let go of it as a realization struck him. He felt it softly slip from his piano thin fingers. This… the cloak… it was not supposed to still be with her. Her possession of it was a mystery to him. It was something from the era that the duel on the rooftop should have ended… the thought startled him.

But yet, he was not to be critical in this case, for he was wearing the worn leather jacket he lent to the one who began to save him from his solitude. It was quite interesting.

He looked at the half-moon; _I'm on a rooftop under a moon that reminds me of something familiar. What is this Pha-" _but his thoughts halted there as he knew exactly how to start this conversation. Although he had gone through the similarities himself, he wanted to know his daughter's thoughts on the matter. He smirked only slightly, but he was immediately regretting the act as soon as Mhera went slightly pale. _Hmm, did she think that facial expression would have left my repertoire? _He smirked again.

Mhera watched her father silently. His gaze turned to the half moon and she paled as the shadow of a smirk crossed his face, it wasn't an expression she was prepared to see after… certain events. It faded but then it came back to her father's face, making her inwardly shiver. She hated being in his hot seat.

"Mheralo, look at the moon…" Her father whispered softly, his tone did not match his expression; it was unusual. He softly urged her again. "What does the moon remind you of?"

Mhera paused, sure and yet not. She wanted a clear question, not one of her father's overly cryptic hints. Unfortunately she did not get what she desired, a clear answer. Her father began softly humming a melody. She had to strain her ears to hear that the soft melody began on a high note, went to a low note, repeating twice, then semi-chromatically to the high note again. Mhera almost swooned at the realization of the melody, and the words at the part her father had reached:

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!And you'll live as you've never lived before_ …

"The Phantom." Mhera softly murmured.

The hum ceased, and Marik's hand slowly returned to his daughter's shoulder. His voice was almost a whisper. "What made you suggest me?" His eyes begged her to answer; his pleading eyes that once both threatened and adored.

"That expression…you know what it does to me…" Mhera tried to change the subject, but Marik was not letting it go unaddressed.

"I need to know, Mheralo. Fate seems to have played a strange trick on me that night. I thought I saw…" His voice trailed off.

Marik stood there, in shock; looking over the roofs, he saw the gray green eyes of a half-masked man. _It's an illusion… it has to be an illusion. _

"_Oh, believe me, Monsieur Ishtar, I'm no illusion." _

Marik almost stepped back as the deep and subtle voice continued to speak. _"You and I, we are similar, kindred spirits, if you will. " _The voice chuckled softly. _"You already know the answer you seek, why do you ask your dear Mheralo? You are lucky, you have to realize that, my friend… but you still grieve when you so clearly have let your beloved go… watching you grieve, it has pained me, monsieur."_

_How does he know so much? _Marik wondered.

"_And, Monsieur, fate was not playing tricks on you. That was indeed your beloved staring you in the eyes." _The Phantom then faded out of his vision.

"Father… are you alright? You're making me think you are going to pass out again." Mhera was pallid with worry.

"No, I'm fine Mheralo."

"You are not."

"Are you trying to start an argument? You must know that the few we had ended badly…" He remembered one in particular.

_**Flashback**_

_Those words,…How dare she say that…_ Marik was gripping the mahogany desk so hard that his knuckles were slowly going white. Tears were slowly taking routes down his face. _HOW DARE SHE! _He was hurt emotionally, and, for him, often times fury was the companion of hurt; this time it was no different. He saw himself in the reflection that the glass topped desk showed, and it almost scared _him. _

Marik glared at Mhera so intently that she went a little whiter. He stepped from behind the desk, trying so hard to keep what little composure he had left from slipping away.

He took one step. _How could she say that?_

Two._ Why?_

Three and four. _Does she not know how it hurts to even mention the one who saved me from my solitude?_

Five steps. He had returned back to his original thought. _How dare she say that… __How dare she! _

Mhera was now to the side of him and within easy reach. He wrested her so that she was facing him. He sobbed at her softly. "How dare you say that…" Marik was trying to control his imminent outburst, but it was to no avail. "HOW DARE YOU!" He bellowed.

The next thing he knew, his right hand was within striking distance. He knew it was shaking, but it was so minute that he couldn't even see it. _I can't… I won't…but I can, and I want to do this so badly, but what would the cost be?_ One look at Mhera stopped his thoughts.

Marik felt his hand slowly drop to his side, and the rest of him soon follow until he was on his knees on the floor. "Get out." He stated softly. After a few moments he looked to find that Mhera was still there. "I SAID GET OUT, MHERALO!" He bellowed like a wounded dog. He heard the door shut softly as Mhera made her hasty exit.

Marik still was on the floor for a few moments more, his breaths still shaking. He staggered to the desk, grabbing it almost madly for support.

_**End of Flashback**_

"No, and… the first argument…when I read that script, that was one of the first things that came to my mind."

"There is something I know that made me fit the role as well that I never told you. When I told you that I first kissed your mother under the tree in the oasis; it wasn't exactly true. Your mother and I shared a kiss before that, and I reacted the right way for the role."

_**Flashback**_

He smiled slightly and… sincerely. She looked into his eyes and saw the ice melt away. But the ice quickly reformed in his eyes, causing whatever barrier that was brought down in the blonde to arise anew.

Marik felt the emerald orbs pierce his mind with a warm comforting gaze, breaking the barrier that he had taken comfort in for so long. That gaze had an unintended side effect, however, as it brought feelings of rejection to the forefront of his mind. _She would never take me, even if I ask. She could surely find someone better than me. _Marik started picking up the shattered pieces of his barriers that hardened him into the cold individual who was fearful of rejection; thus, he let as few people in as possible.

"You should just go now and leave me. I'm certain that you will find someone better than I if you would only look." Marik turned away from Filiron's emerald eyes.

Filiron had seen enough. "No Marik!" She sighed loudly. "I won't leave you. You have no idea how much you have challenged me you change. I want to stay with you, because you challenged me to change… more than anyone has. I feel like I owe you something in return."

"You owe me nothing!" The platinum blonde almost spat. He shook with self-fury. "Nothing!" His sobbing voice echoed throughout the room.

_**End of Flashback**_

"I had no idea…" Mhera's own voice trailed off, as she now saw The Phantom on her left. She knew she had a slight look of disbelief on her face.

"_You don't seem as worried by my appearance as your father was… strange. He tells you the truth, my dear."_

_Is he a Guardian Angel? If so, my father and I have probably been a handful…_

"_Well, I am an Angel of Music, mademoiselle; why can't I be a guardian angel as well?"_

The Phantom faded from her sight.

She tapped her father's shoulder. He turned to face her.

"Father, do you believe in the Angel of Music?"

He looked at the moon thoughtfully. "Maybe… why?"

"I think I've seen him."

"No, really? I think I saw him as well. You don't think both our minds can play the same trick?" Marik sounded slightly worried.

"No." Mhera laughed softly

" Well, then, why don't we just enjoy the night." Marik suggested.

No words needed to be said, as they looked at the stars, and saw the masked moon smiling on them.

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**DH: **I hope you all liked it. Please Review.


	16. Gifts Without Words

**DH AN:** I'm back with another prompted one-shot with the prompt **Silent Night **from the 30 gens Live Journal community. Enjoy **Gifts without Words. **There are Phantom References, but that should be no surprise.

**AN 2:** Marik 1st Person POV

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**16: Father-Daughter Bonding (Marik & Mhera) Amethysteelshipping (Sheonel Yagasawi X Mheralo Ishtar) and Post-Jewelshipping (Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae) **

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**Gifts without Words**

Sleep is the restorative that we all need at times. Sleep often keeps its distance from me, but not without reason; I am very liable to attacks from unwanted memories in my sleep…very unwanted ones.

Tonight was one of those nights, it was a memory about…it doesn't matter, it was only a dream and nothing more. I sighed; insomnia was often the only thing consistent in my nights. I clenched my fists, unsurprised to see my nail's impressions on my palms; that was how I always reacted to the cruel snare of fate that had taken her away from me. I shook with an honestly indistinguishable emotion; it wasn't fury, nor was it sorrow; it wasn't anger, nor was it grief. It was…as I first thought… indistinguishable. Often I forget what resulted from that specific thread of fate…the gift that was given from my beloved in her last moments.

My Mheralo.

She was, and is, a gift; the one gift that I always underestimate in value.

I stepped out into the hallway and through the kitchen, taking a right at the next hall I came to. My steps slowed as they came to the first door on the right. Opening the door, I silently strode toward the desk, turned the chair so that it faced the bed, and occupied it. I watched the sleeping form on the bed, and sighed as I set my chin into my hands.

I doubt my Mheralo will ever know what she has done for me. I consider her a gift in more ways than one. If she had eyes the color of the other jewel in the combination, how different things would be. And yet, my Mheralo's eyes are anything but completely mine. While they are my amethyst-sapphire color, and this is another gift that I am grateful for, her eyes lack the ice that perpetually exists in mine. But, I am slightly frightened by the fact that her resemblance to me grows stronger everyday. Is that not something I should be proud of?

I watched her sleep peacefully, and smile slightly. It is a peace that she deserves for having to put up with me. Temperament has never been one of my strengths. I know that without doubt. Though somehow, it only is a problem on occasion that I encounter when my daughter is near. My Mheralo doesn't deserve it, what happens when I lose control of my emotions…no one does.

I don't need to worry about doing anything to her physically as much as I need worry about the mental harm I fear causing her, as that is something that I am completely capable of doing, intentional or otherwise. The day I even think of harming this gift in such a way as that, I should consider myself someone else; not her father but a power-lusting madman who won't let anything stop him.

I shook at thought, the faint memory of something I heard years earlier echoing in my head. I grimaced as I realized that I had already taken the first step toward what I heard as a meaningless flicker of a thought from a fright-filled dream becoming a reality. It was becoming more possible for me to find displeasure in my daughter, who never would disappoint me. I felt my brows furrow at my thoughts. That first step was to blame for what had almost taken my Mheralo away from me. But yet I have another gift that I can only thank my daughter for.

Her unyielding love for a certain boy, and, I suppose, in turn, his unyielding love for her. Though she is not going to hear about how he saved her, somehow, she will know with time. I will be forever grateful for the risks Yagasawi took to ensure my daughter's safety. He will never know that feeling until someone saves _his _daughter from circumstances beyond his control.

I started to move from my seat. While looking at the sleeping child, I sighed as I came to a realization that often had to show me in an epiphany more than once. She was, is, mine…the one gift I can never replace nor return…why on earth would I? If things were any different, the two most likely results would still offer grief of different nature for each result. I felt tears begin to flow onto my face.

That day in September almost eight years earlier…I didn't realize it at the time…I almost lost them both. It was partially due to the difference in blood types between the mother and child, and also due to the complications of the labor itself. I would have been both a grieving father and a grief-torn husband; a man shattered by a double loss. But I was only partially shattered, and was not to be shattered forever, as a mirror of any kind would be, even one of those mirrors that one can see out of but only under certain conditions can the watcher be seen.

Sometimes I feel as though I am behind one of those mirrors…willing to watch everything, but allowing others see only under certain conditions. It sickens me slightly that I can only bring myself to trust a few, and those few have had to earn it. There was only one who I gave my trust.

I was brought out of my thoughts by a muffled noise from my dear one. I quietly stepped toward her, hesitating before letting my lips touch her forehead in a father's chaste kiss. I drew my face away, and let it be replaced by my gentle fingers, softly touching her forehead.

As I drew my fingers away, two of them were gripped by my Mheralo's hands in her sleep. I smiled, that was one thing that she used to do when she was younger, much younger. She was, and is, my gift evermore.

I knelt beside the bed, allowing my gift of a silent night to keep a firm hold on my fingers.

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**DH: **I hope you all like it. Merry Christmas.


	17. Return To Me

**DH AN: **I'm back with another oneshot, the Prompt being **A night in **from the LJ community, **30 Friends. **Please enjoy **Return To Me.**

**AN 2: POV: **1st Person Mhera

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**17: Father-Daughter bonding (Marik & Mhera)**

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**Return To Me**

I hate this…honestly horrible…waiting period of two days when my father returns; gives me a notion that his business never goes in his favor. I never cease to show my relief that he has returned in one piece. I have a feeling that he doesn't do all of his business with people with their morals in the right places, and that's why it takes a few days for him to get over the stresses of the trips. I'd rather not add my worries to the equation.

But I worry over nothing, as always; my father says I worry enough for us both, and I never really have to, at least in this matter. My father always returns to me within two days. I waited for this time to follow that same pattern, thankful that I didn't have to wait that long. I smiled, hearing his calm footsteps enter the kitchen; he would never physically be able to sneak up on me, unless he got lucky and I wasn't paying attention. The fact that he often snuck up on me mentally was another matter. I felt his hands gently come to rest on my shoulders.

"I missed you." I sighed gently, and my father knew that I wasn't only referring to the time for the duration of the trip, although that in itself was something that I would change, nothing good ever seemed to come out of my father's 'business trips'. Or, almost nothing good ever came out of them. He did come home, and that was always something I was really grateful for.

His soft voice always startled me, and this time it was no different. "You know I feel the same, my Mheralo."

Personally, I always found it hard to believe that my father could ever raise his voice above its current level…but it had been proven numerous times.

A smile crossed his face, I could hear it in his voice. "I trust that all has been well while I have been away?" I smiled a personally satisfying wry smile. He knew the answer. Of course nothing too terrible had happened, but it never hurt to ask.

"Why so silent, Mheralo?" My father's voice was hesitant.

"I…don't know." I responded calmly, softly. My father set his head gently on my shoulders, tilting it towards mine, as if approving my answer.

"At times, my dear Mheralo silence needs no explainable reason, but…is it because of how I'm not always…cordial after my trips?"

I sat there in absolute shock that I hadn't seen that coming; he always knew how to surprise me with what he knew. I should have known better than to try and hide this from him.

His voice was soft, comforting; wrapping itself around me warmly. "Your silence itself says more than you ever will, my Mheralo." He gently took my hands, and looked me in the eyes. "That is how I know what bothers you." His face was straight, with no hidden expression, like a gentle stone that has been worn smooth by time. "But you needn't worry…" My father didn't know what he could say. However I did.

"For you always return to me." I murmured softly, encompassing myself in his embrace and his soft smile of agreement.

"And you always wait for me, my Mheralo." He whispered softly in my ear.

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**DH:** I just love these two. This one was inspired by that idea in **Chapter Sixteen** of **Phantom Duelists** that Marik was a little ill-receptive of Mhera's over exuberance upon his return from his "business trips". Please Review.


	18. To See The Natural Magic

**DH AN: I'm back with another Prompted Oneshot with this quote as a prompt: **"_The gift of practical arrangement is a kind of natural magic that enables these favored ones to bring out the hidden capabilities of things around them." -From_**The ****House of the Seven Gables**, by Nathanial Hawthorne. This is also my first time writing Filiron 1st Person point of view. This cross references _**Memoirs of May **_(Chapter Four) Please Enjoy **To See The Natural Magic.**

**POV: Filiron 1st Person**

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18: Post-Jewelshipping Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae

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To See The Natural Magic

She certainly lives up to what is said of those who possess a natural magic; that they are often only a selected few, and use their natural magic to better the things and people around them.

If my daughter's natural magic has benignly influenced one person, I could very easily name the beneficiary. Her magic has aided he whose own natural magic aided me. There have been many unseen smiles that I have shown while I watch over them.

Though interestingly enough, I am not the only one to watch over them; there is another who watches with me. I sense that he watches them out of slight guilt, as do I; but his guilt…I don't think it is for this generation, but an earlier one of the same line. He's quite mysterious; this man, he reminds me of my husband, oddly enough. This masked watcher only speaks to me on every Third of May, and every year he utters the same words, as an inner question and one that I always answer for him.

"How much do you think your husband loves you?" The man asked me on the fourteenth occurrence of my husband's ritual; he received no answer the year previous, as I had started weeping at the first sight of my beloved doing this in his impaired state, and the masked man who spoke to me not but once a year began to sing ever so softly, with a gentle and soothing voice; in the process, giving me the correct answer to the question he asked annually.

**You said you'd share with him one love, one lifetime**

**Safely lead him from his solitude**

**Never will he leave 'lone his love for you**

**Understand he still holds his heart true**

**Filiron, that's all he asks of you…**

"He loves me for a lifetime." I answered the masked man.

He smiled, or at least I thought he did. "I think he loves you far more than that."

That was the first time he had spoken outside of his normal conversation, and I wasn't about to let it end. He had stated the truth. "Yes. I think so."

I then saw someone else file silently into the room. The masked man hesitated before speaking. "This girl; she continues what you started, although your beloved does not see it that way. Such a strange thing that he does not see it."

The masked man raised his eyebrows upon hearing something that I did not catch. "Is what he said true?" He asked me incredulously.

I was about to retort that I never heard what was in question but he continued. "That you would mourn him as he mourns you?"

I knew to an extent that was true. "Yes, but not exactly."

"Each of us mourns in their own way, through placement of a single rose on a grave, or as your beloved does, selecting a bloom that meets certain requirements... Grief can bring fourth the best natural magic of all; the natural magic of family and a bond that can withstand the trials of life." He looked at me. "That is the true natural magic that all possess, my friend. To see this force at work, is a wonderful and rare reward in and of itself. " He smiled once more; this time it was without a doubt

I watched silently as my beloved softly retreated from the room, leaving my little one, who truly wasn't so little anymore, alone. My eyes widened upon seeing her thread two lilies with the one of the previous year by use of my beloved's wedding band that was said to be too small for his finger.

The masked man turned to me once more. "It's moments like these that make the time I've watched this lineage worthwhile. Perhaps it is because your daughter…" I waited as he found the right words. "She reminds me of the one who made my choice a lot easier when it came to what family I looked over, as I had no family of my own that I would look upon with a benign heart. And it is not by appearance, but by personality, that she is so reminiscent. Your…Mheralo…" He hesitated as he said the name, but I noticed that it seemed to come out like a melody in his voice. "She's so headstrong that at times it drives your husband up a wall."

"She gets it from him." I muttered.

"Answer me this, Filiron Rylae Ishtar. What would you do, given a second chance to go through your life?" The masked man asked.

"There is only one thing I would do differently, but then again that would no doubt change the future. Putting that into perspective, I doubt I would do anything differently,"

"In retrospect on my own life, there are some things I would change, but as you said before, that could very well have changed my future." The masked man answered his own question.

"What exactly is natural magic?" I asked him softly.

"Natural magic is love and peace, a music that will soothe a restlessly grieving heart, and invisible to the man who walks through his life day to day as a phantom is able to walk through walls. To see natural magic at work is, as I've stated earlier, a wonderful and rare reward, and…what we have seen tonight." He left me, silently as a shadow.

As I have stated before, she certainly lives up to what is said of those who possess a natural magic; that they are often only a selected few, and use their natural magic to better the things and people around them. But if what the masked man said is true, would not we all have natural magic within us?

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**DH: **Well, that's another update done. I think for my first time writing in Filiron's head, it went well. Please review. Happy New Year.


	19. Hidden in Writing

**DH AN: **I have another Oneshot using the Prompt **Her Handwriting**, from the **31 Days Community**. Enjoy **Hidden in Writing. **

**AN 2: **Post **Healing Presence.**

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**19: Father Daughter Bonding (Marik & Mhera) Reflective Piece**

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**Hidden in Writing**

I sighed, alone in my office under mountains of paperwork that had somehow erected themselves during my all too recent bout with illness. I shook my head, thankful I was not prone to constant illness…daily paperwork seemed to be yet another bane of my existence; a week of it made me feel as though life was giving me yet another cold slap in the face, which I felt that I was getting more of those lately.

I closed my eyes, leaning back into my chair with a sigh, thankful that I was no longer confined to my bed as I was a week earlier. While it was true that I had a cough every now and again, it was by no means as inhibiting as it was before.

I heard my office door open, something slide through the my mountain of papers, and the door softly shut. Those three sounds intrigued me, for a usual entrance was accompanied by something verbal. Whoever it was saw it fit to just place the matter quite literally into my hands, and leave it without a second thought. More people like that would cause less stress for me. I somewhat smirked at the thought.

I leaned my head back towards the mountains of papers, opening my eyes and felt them immediately begin the search for the new addition to my workload. I found it rather quickly.

Written on stained paper, I calmly realized who had entered; there was only one person who I expected to receive dueling essays from, and more so, essays that were two sheets, front and back…the exact specifications set fourth to this individual specifically by me.

I calmly pulled it out from its almost precarious position and let my eyes follow the flow of the ink. The handwriting was very legible, though that was never a problem with my Mheralo. It was not the legibility I looked at first; never had that been my priority, considering I had often seen illegible hands expose themselves in more important paperwork. If any one of those posts were ever vacated, either forcibly or by chance, I possessed no doubt as to who I would place there.

I then began to identify every pause, which there were few of when one knew the subject matter, and much to my satisfaction, I only found two or three per paragraph.

To me, it seemed a very good sign.

I thought back to the first version of this essay, eventually getting the hard copy out to be certain I was correct. I was. The first essay was littered with devious pauses, especially before purposely placed errors. It was as if she wanted to give the wrong impression. It gave me the indication that Mheralo-that she wanted to make sure those errors were correctly placed in the paper. I blinked at the possible paradox that presented itself, quickly turning my attention to the second paper, as I had discovered the non-flawed, but ill-used mechanics of the first.

The second paper still had pauses, but ones in the right places; where an example was needed, or a well-written explanation was finished and the author was in doubt of where to go next. Those were the kind of pauses I was expecting, as well as the only ones I found.

I never truly 'read' papers when they are handed to me. I have a certain... method- to read them, a method I seldom choose to stray from when it comes to my Mheralo's work; if for no other reason that her handwriting is so reminiscent of her mother's- of my beloved's. I sighed; hers was the only other handwriting I would evaluate with the manner of an analyzer of calligraphy. I shook the thought away, once more willing myself to look at the paper in front of me.

One can easily see emotions through handwriting if they know what to look for. If the writer is nervous there will usually be mid-letter pauses, after which the writer finds the nerve to continue. If the writer is angry, the ink appears gouged into, and not set onto, the page, and the reader might not be surprised to see the words almost carved into the desk. I laughed joylessly as I caught sight of faint inscriptions on my desk…in my distinct script.

Confidence is another thing entirely. It is a feeling that flows faster than ink can settle, and could easily be seen by the untrained eye. If there was one thing I looked for in Mheralo's handwriting more than accuracy, that something was confidence. That was what I saw, along with perhaps a slight desire to please me. I only wish that she could see that she has already done that and so much more. I fished for my signet stamp, set it in ink, and firmly placed it on the paper with pleasure. I was quite confident in the writing myself.

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**DH: **I hope that was good. I enjoyed writing this one, possible pun intended. Please review.


	20. Ring or Rank?

**DH AN: **I'm back using the prompt **It's just a nightmare **for another Prompted Oneshot. Please 'enjoy' **Ring or Rank? **it's a bit more angst than I usually write, which is why enjoy is singularly quoted. For this one I'm listing pairing name but nothing more…part of the suspense.

**AN 2:**Slightly references **Golden Conversations, Chapter Four.**

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**20: Hinted Amethysteelshipping, and hinted "Shattered" Father Daughter Bonding **

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**Ring or Rank?**

As she looked into the mirror, Mheralo Ishtar wanted to yell at the reflection that dared stare her in the face. "Why, why did you do nothing to stop this? Why did you tell him only then; only when his life was in danger?" Her mind seemed to ask. Yet she could not answer.

"Why, indeed." she muttered softly to herself, letting her auburn locks slide to the front of her face. Tears cascaded down her cheeks, but she didn't care. None of this should have happened. _He shouldn't be there! He should still be safe… with me._ Mhera clenched her fist so hard that it went white.

_Wake up!! All this is a nightmare. You've never met, you're not at a tournament that is so much more, and you don't have feelings for him- you sent him away years ago, why would you think he loves you?_

All of these of course were bitter lies she told herself in attempt to ease the emotional pain; it did little, save make her feel worse. A headache was mounting and she needed sleep. She finally gave in.

_**Dream Sequence**_

A huge chamber with shadows in awkward places, a chain link in the center met her vision. She entered seeing two hooded men, one with a red tinted chain in hand, the other with a silver tinted one; both had endearing expressions on their faces. She had one of each tint in her hands Upon closer inspection, they were both engraved; the red one with her real name; the silver with her alias.

A moment to think was what she needed. An amethyst hook was on both chains. It appeared that only one could be hooked and the other would have to lie there, abandoned forever. Both men held out their right hands, the silver chain bearer holding an equally silver ring, and the red chain bearer holding two lightweight gold bars with a thick silver slash going through it. Both figures wanted her to take what they had to offer. Another decision; hadn't she had enough of those for one day?

What she saw in the silver chain bearer, she knew not, but something set him out to her. She gently set the red one down; eyes watching the corresponding bearer draw back into the shadows. She couldn't help but have a premonition that it wouldn't be the last time those eyes were seen. A sense of relief flooded her as she took the hand of the silver bearer, taking the ring loosely in her hand. He smiled at her warmly.

Or at least that is what she wanted to do.

She stepped toward the silver chain bearer, but the red chain quickly materialized, wrapping around her heels, pulling her mercilessly to her knees. She panted, unable to remove the chain that hindered her…it was as if she was going against…she couldn't think that. She gripped the red chain in one final desperate attempt that abraded her hands, and she watched in mute horror as the resulting blood that oozed slowly out of the wound was strengthening the chain. Mheralo Ishtar had no choice but to accept the painful symbolism that had proven itself true.

Mhera awoke, relieved to see perspiration as the only liquid on her hands. _It was only a nightmare…only a nightmare. _But the dream almost played out exactly the way it had occurred. She had accepted the ring, and refused rank, though not in a choice, and that was perhaps the whole, and only sound reason, the dream had those very elements. It wasn't just a nightmare.

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**DH:** That is the only mention of real blood you will get out of me… I repeat only one. I'm no vampire. Please Review.


	21. Waiting In Hope

**DH AN: **I am updating my **Prompted Oneshots** with the Prompt **"Wait for me"** from the 30 gens community. Please enjoy **Waiting In Hope.**

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21: Post-Jewelshipping (Marik X Filiron)

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**Waiting In Hope**

Outside the front door, he stood, the warm light from the sunrise caressing his face.

Like she used to.

He balled his fists as the winds seemed to laugh at him, at his seemingly wasted devotion, at his faith that his complete abandonment of solitude would somehow take place even after she who rescued him was gone.

But the sun seemed to be countering everything the wind was quite literally and figuratively blasting him with. She loved him, and was waiting for him… that much he knew from day one of this...torture that fate had tossed him into.

He wanted to be able to tell her exactly how he had felt without the cryptic messages, or unspoken ones, that were never easily communicated. And she waited; he knew that was what she was waiting for…he had just been too stubborn to give it. His blasted denial! That was always the obstacle in his way; that and his stubborn pride. And yet she had been patient, loving him anyway. She was his treasure that he had never rightly deserved, not that he had taken her by force. She chose him, and she would take no one else….and wait for no one else.

She was headstrong, and that was what he loved about her most. She wouldn't let him hold her back, or push her forward. She was always there beside him, never behind nor ahead of him. Well, now that wasn't entirely true. She had preceded him in death, but he knew she was waiting for him. And would always be. For that was what his dear Filiron Rylae had told him. He could still hear her soft voice as she lay dying, in his arms no less.

"_I will wait for you, my beloved." _She smiled weakly.

He tried to remain strong, but every time that image crossed his mind; he couldn't even hold back tears. His knees buckled under him, but he didn't descend into an undignified heap of self-pity…someone caught him.

That someone then let their own knees gently fall with his. "I hate seeing you like this." His supporter muttered softly.

"Why, my Mheralo? Why does seeing me down, with my defenses destroyed-something you very well know would bring some people great joy-why does it sadden you?"

"You know very well, why." Mhera hissed with a bit of sorrow in it. "Family never enjoys seeing one they care brought down, especially when it is an issue that they have dealt with before… and an issue that has always brought you emotional pain." She sighed. "She would never want to see you like this, and you know that I don't either."

She did not move when he placed his head on her shoulders, and started weeping softly into it. For there had been instances where the roles were reversed, and his was the shoulder she cried on.

"She will wait for you. You are waiting to rejoin her, so patiently. And I certainly hope both of your patience does pay off." She held him with a slight smile.

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**DH: **I hope you liked it. I came up with this one on the spot.


	22. Caged

**DH AN: **I'm using the prompt **Locked in a cage **from the **31 days **archive. It is an interesting piece that references the flashback from **Chapter Four **of **Golden Conversations,** and the **POTO Flashback in Chapter Twelve **Enjoy **Caged.**

**AN 2: POV: **Mhera 1st Person

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#22: Mhera Reflective Piece

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**Caged**

Walking away from him like that…it never felt right to me. It continued to scream betrayal, refusal, and denial. Those words seemed to form a cage around me that I wanted so badly to escape from. In retrospect, my mind may have been switching sides already, forming an escape plan… but it seemed futile. I seemed content to stay within the confines. Besides…I didn't have the key anyway.

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I walked onto another place. I had yet to find a place where I could just think alone, free from physical or mental influences. The place I was treading through was so close to the water that I could hear the gentle murmuring of ocean waves, and yet far enough that I couldn't see the great body of water itself. The trees spread their shadows gracefully across the grass.

I sat under one tree's large boughs. It may not have been a seven-year oak, but it did the same trick. I was silent as I rubbed the still slightly stinging spot on the back of my neck from my father's quick seizure of the ring that only hung there for a short time. His voice echoed in my mind. "You belong to no one but me!"

The words betrayal, refusal, and denial gave way to the real bars of my cage; undeserved loyalty now formed the bars of the cage that held me in. The key was still no where in sight, and seemed to me to be even harder to reach.

I then caught sight of the key, but was reluctant to grab it, as it was attached by chain to a cloaked figure whose presence alone sent shivers up my spine. The key was not beyond my reach…it was now right in front of me- almost as if the answer to my entire dilemma was right under my nose, if I would just take the risk and…fight for it.

I really wanted to attempt to escape this cage-like insanity. It was pure insanity, as I was cruelly reminded as I wrung the remaining seawater from my hair. I started wishing that I had just refused to come, for the umpteenth time. I sighed irately at how I had acted like a meek lamb, content with the way things were. The event that upset me was the scheme that had put five lives in danger; the least important of which seemed to be mine. That content lamb was now some sort of raging creature that could keep a Blue Eyes at bay. I knew what I had to do. Resign.

There was a slight problem with my desire to resign. There was no process for proper resignation. I knew what happened when one even dared mention the word "resign", and that wouldn't be at all in my favor. I had the six locator cards needed to duel in the finals if I so chose; no one in their right mind would give that up.

The word "duel" seemed to hang in my mind longer than any other word that had come across it. But how I would even get there was beyond meat the moment. My father was never one known to be fond of an unexpected duel.

I was brought back out of my thoughts by the sound of wind rustling a lone object, a piece of paper apparently from a business man's briefcase as it appeared to be a piece of letterhead stationary. My mind then found itself lost in a montage of notes my father had given me under his vexing alias of "R.H." A letter…my mind began to wrap around this idea slowly. It seemed both a way to spare me the undesirable outcome certain if I were to attempt to resign verbally, and have my chance to break free from my cage…on even ground. I'm certain my dueling skills were some factor in his offer.

However he responded, I was sure of my choice.

I was going for that key.

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**DH:** I wrote this rather quickly. I hope you liked it.


	23. Can Words Ever Wait?

**DH AN:** Another **Prompted Oneshot** is up, using the Prompt **Parting Words **from the **31 Days **Archive**. **I hope you enjoy it, and I apologize as it's very sad.

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**#23: Jewelshipping: Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae**

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**Can Words Ever Wait**

Marik Ishtar sat at a mahogany wood desk in his office in the lower corridors, dim candles illuminating his wan face, furrowed with worry. He shook his head, fighting off his need to sleep for the unknown time. Marik pulled open a drawer, filled to the point that he had to force it shut, which contained numerous papers folded in half. A small, saddened smile crept across his face as he unfolded a randomly selected bisected sheet of paper.

He marveled at her flowing script; how each phrase, so accurately placed within the paper's confines seemed to easily bring him a small amount of joy. Each of the letters began the same way, not with his name, rather with a simple, but elegant "beloved".

Tears started routes down his face, and he did nothing to stop them…for there was truly nothing he could do. He sighed softly. His beloved, the author of the letter in his hand, was growing weak in body. Never mind that pregnancy alone taxes physical endurance beyond the normal level, the main worry that gripped Marik's heart hard was that his dear Filiron had been ill just a month before and was just now starting to recover. Directly below him she lay, somehow remaining strong, if not for him then for the life she harbored within her. Marik had always admired his bride's courage and resulting physical and mental strength. Memories, bits and snatches, gracefully danced through his head. How they had met, how unsuccessful his attempts were to deny all feelings for her, and his insistence that the only reason he initially let her stay was the fact that she had no family that would take her, and was wearing his coat at the time.

But fate had other ideas. He quickly developed a sort of fondness for her; all of her favored and flawed alike. But thoughts of rejection began to have their way with him throughout his inner struggle. She could have certainly found someone better, and yet, she stayed… stayed to save him from his solitude, and unknowingly grant his desire to be led away from his everlasting loneliness. If it was fate's cruel joke to take her away from him; coming to terms with fate would not be easily done.

She stayed- that was the one thing that he still ceased to grasp after thirteen years. It wasn't the fact that she had married neither him, nor the truth that she was giving him a gift that no one else could…but the fact that she had stayed with him through every chance she was given. Every time he had asked her to leave, to find someone better than him, she was driven toward the opposite choice. Marik sadly knew this time, although his request would differ, would be no different. The fact that he already knew…was what sickened him most.

He already knew the outcome. It was as if he were never meant to be happy, to never be completely free from his solitude. He also knew that if there was a time to tell how he really felt, plainly and simply, without cryptic messages of adoration, this time was slipping away quickly.

Taking his candle, lighting a small hand held oil lamp with its flame, blowing out the already dwindling candle soon after; Marik stepped out of his office, and proceeded up the steps, pacing in a manner that was more akin to a cat's gentle padding along a wood floor. His unburdened pale hand felt along the rail, as his eyes were only focused on the door above him.

As he reached the door, he breathed deeply in attempt to prevent a clumsy rush to her side. He did not want this to be clumsy. He wanted to do it right. This situation merited not a clumsy rush, but an unpracticed calm walk to where she lay. He turned the knob, opening the door just enough to let himself slide through.

Her breathing was hollow, but peaceful; as it had been for the last few nights. Her swollen pregnant belly was proof that it was almost nine months along. Her skin was pale from the prior illness, but to Marik, it was still as breathtaking as when it was flushed with healthy color. He padded softly over to the pre-positioned chair, to do what he had every night since this ordeal started, whisper meaningful sweet-nothings in his beloved's ever-listening ear.

Marik caressed his beloved's wan cheek longingly. His Filiron held his heart, his love, and his trust. What he would do to show she is loved more than words could say if she could only stay with him. His hand moved from her cheek, gripping her hand gently; silently pleading for fate to end its cruel joke on him…to let her stay with him.

Marik breathed heavily in, a racking sob lining his breath. Tears slid mercilessly down his face as his softly pleading whispers echoed throughout the room. "It's not your time…It's not your time…my dear one, it's not your time…" He inhaled with another sob. "…to leave me yet."

Bracing himself hard against the chair's arms, Marik continued to weep. He held that position for a few moments more; unwillingly letting premature grief take its hold on him.

A soft whisper floated across his ear, somehow cutting through the undesired sobs. "I can't leave you yet, my beloved." Marik looked up, seeing his bride of thirteen years' emerald-green eyes filled with determination; a quality about her that he dearly loved. She smiled at him weakly, "But soon, my beloved, I shall have to leave you."

Marik squeezed Filiron's hand desperately, whispering softly into her ear, "Please dear one, don't say 'soon'." He finished with a sad, gentle sigh; letting her sleep. Marik soon drifted off to sleep himself, still keeping a firm hold on his dear one's hand.

An urgent squeeze on his hand hours later brought Marik back to reality. All he heard was Filiron's gentle "It's time." The phrase was somehow successfully soothing the frantic pounding of his deeply perturbed heart. Fighting back tears, he retrieved the team of doctors that were only hired because of his success in business…that would hopefully be able to keep her living. After that task was done; as he was quite unwilling to pace the hallway outside the room; Marik quickly ran to his office, locking himself inside. His attempts on doing the same with his emotions were not as successful.

He forced his hands into fists, not caring about the impressions that were seen upon release. Staggering to the desk, he buried his face in his hands, feeling tears touch his palms. No matter how strong his will was, it would never stand against the torture that would be all but plainly imminent in the loss of his bride of thirteen years. He loved her more than his words could ever say. Not that there weren't words to express his sentiments… they were just not his words. His own words were needed to express what he so badly wanted.

He sobbed; realizing that by the time he found the right words… his beloved would never hear them. Ruffling through the note drawer, Marik found nothing but sorrowful reminisce in each note…Until he reached a smaller piece of paper that was not folded as the others were. The others had been folded by his hand for the sake of drawer space. But this one…was folded by her hand and the folds were still quite crisp; purposefully placed there by the author's hand. Marik marveled at his beloved's script once more; quite a bit had been revealed in four simple words.

**I'd like that coffee.**

A quick knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts. "Yes?" Marik's voice was dryly hoarse and raspy as he unlocked the door.

Upon opening the door, a doctor who was a bit graying in hair and beard was staring Marik somberly in the eyes.

"Was it…successful?" Marik had to brace himself to dare say "successful."

"Yes, and congratulations, Mr. Ishtar; you have a little girl." Marik tensed at the way the physician's tone was somehow masking something that was equally important.

Bracing himself, Marik tried to ask the imminently negative question. How is…How is…Is she…" He couldn't phrase it correctly, because he dreaded the answer.

"Your wife still lives, but there is a high probability you will lose her. The blood types between mother and child differed, the labor itself was quite taxing on her and according to the doctor who referred you to us, your wife had been ill about a month prior and has yet to completely recover from it." The grizzled doctor hesitated. "Sir, we did all we could…my condolences, Mr. Ishtar."

Absolutely livid with both grief and fury, two emotions best kept separate, Marik's voice came from between partially clenched teeth, icily. "All you can do is offer condolences?!" Tears started down his face as repeated the last word softly. "Condolences…" This time the word was laced with grief and only grief. Shoving the doctor out of his way, Marik barreled down the stairs so carelessly that the floor above him could well have collapsed and not even come close to the din his footsteps made. Upon reaching the door at the bottom of the stairs, he wretched it open, clumsiness and valiance both evident in his rush to his bride's side.

His life's love opened her eyes weakly. "You're here." She breathed, apparently awestruck.

Marik smiled, "of course I'm here." He murmured, wrapping his finger around a lock of Filiron's soft, auburn hair with a gentle touch that was only for her. "With you and…" He emphasized his point by gently stroking the nameless babe, contently snug in her mother's arms.

"Mheralo." Filiron softly suggested.

"You picked the name without me?" He asked, a false look of shock on his face. In all reality, he thought the name very fitting.

Filiron smiled almost devilishly, which accented her green eyes with unparalleled certainty. "Because I knew you would have no difficulty accepting the choice." She smiled a little wider. "She looks like you."

"She has your face, and hair; now how does that make her look like me?" Marik asked in a rare whisper. His question was answered as the infant revealed blue eyes that were the same shade of sapphire-amethyst as his own, without his perpetual ice.

"She has your eyes." Filiron almost laughed. And Marik could not help but chuckle slightly.

"And what about her middle name?" Marik asked softly.

"I thought I would let you pick that." She softly whispered.

Marik thought and thought, running multiple names through his head, not one sounding good…until he stopped upon one that would keep Filiron in his mind, when it was most needed…when impatient and upset; her maiden name, Rylae.

"Mheralo Rylae Ishtar," He stated softly, the middle name coming out almost reverently from his lips. He saw Filiron struggling to keep her eyes open now, and whispered softly to assuage her spirit that wanted to fight the inevitable. "Rest, my dear one…rest." He kissed her gently on the cheek hearing her softly whisper as she left him.

"I will wait for you, my beloved." She smiled weakly, fading into an eternal slumber with a gentle squeeze on Marik' hand. He wept silently for countless minutes.

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Soon after that night, Marik had moved his "office" so that he would be closer to the daughter his bride had fought so hard to live for. He did not think young Mheralo took after him as much as she took after her mother. Just within this short time span, the little one proved to be quite headstrong and easily contented.

Yes, Marik missed Filiron dearly; but somehow it was bearable to know that she had passed bringing new life into the world. He looked at the grave stone, reading in his own words and hand, thus:

"Rest in peace where you belong, where your loved ones long gone wait. But know that while I remain here, you shall always remain my beloved; a wife, a mother, and my rescuer… farewell, my beloved Filiron Rylae, forevermore."

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**DH: **Sorry it was sad, but I hope you liked it.


	24. Truth In Deception

**DH AN: **I have another oneshot, prompt being **The coldest eyes and the cruelest hands **from an archived **31 Days **set. References Episode 95 and back in the dub, and **Chapter Eleven **of **Healing Presence**. Quotes are transcribed as best the author can manage, though only about two or three are directly from the episode. This is my first time trying this…bear with me. Please enjoy **Truth in Deception.**

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**Timeline: **during/ after Ishizu's duel with Kaiba

**POV: **Mhera 1st

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**#24: Mhera reflective Piece**

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**Truth in Deception**

The coldest eyes and the cruelest hands…those are all anyone else has seen or thought of him. And that was before…before the true bearer of those cruel hands and cold eyes was let loose, all because of that fraudulent card…I still was replaying that whole incident through my head, knowing that I had given up my fight far too soon. I could have stopped it…but I gave up. What does that say about me? Am I a coward, trying to hide behind the strength that is not mine, just as he hid within the minds of others? As I watch Mai Valentine, primarily to keep Serenity Wheeler company; along with the fact that I don't think I can bring myself to watch another duel that involves magic that is countless millennia old; these are the questions I ponder.

"It's too quiet." The soft voice of Joey's younger sister, a sister that I could only hope to emulate, breaks my focus, to my relief.

"Yes," I can only bring myself to say that one word, then a few more come to mind. "But perhaps that is what we need after…" Thankfully I didn't need to say it.

"It must have been hard on you…more than any of us." Serenity commented, looking me in the eyes.

"No, the second was hardest on me. I'm glad your brother won." I sighed, still running over that duel in my head.

"Part of you wanted the other one to win." Serenity said, undoubtedly reading my face.

"I just wanted him to stand…" I sighed, trying to lighten the conversation a bit. "Even if I didn't know that he was only providing a disguise to the real danger; there was a way that someone who knew the demeanor of that real danger could easily deduce that the duelist wasn't who he said he was."

"How?"

"The guy was too polite." I murmured with a slight smile. "The real Marik would have never addressed his opponent as his decoy had." Thankfully, Serenity seemed to know I was referring to "Namu", and not the one who claimed to be the "true nature" of Marik.

My mind then replayed those suspenseful minutes in my head. Both duelists were on the ground, unmoving. There were two, no three, struggles I was feeling; the worst one being the battle raging within me, made even more stressful as stressed words ran through my mind as a losing battle raged on.

"_Expose me! Mheralo, you must expose me!"_

I was shaking, unwilling to expose him…my father…it was the only shred of loyalty I still had towards him, ignoring the fact that he could just as easily expose me, and would do so if exposed himself. All I said was a soft, almost inaudible, "Namu." pointing to him; which led to his exposure.

Tears touched my face as I heard a soft _"Thank you."_

I was then brought out of my reverie as Tea's voice cut into the silence, "Hey Serenity, how's Mai?"

"Quiet." Serenity murmured.

"Serenity, has she said a word?" Joey inquired further.

"Nope, not a thing." Serenity confirmed once more. Joey's eyes narrowed in sorrow and doubt.

I finally brought courage to speak. "I wish it were different, but what your sister says is true; Mai has yet to say a word."

I had obviously chosen a poor time to speak. "Who asked you?" He almost yelled. However, I was unaffected by his outburst. I could understand why…he was acting this way. He wanted to bring Mai back as, in truth, we all wanted to.

"I'm sorry I let you down Mai, but mark my words, I promise you'll get your revenge against that Marik." I admired his promise, but he wouldn't be able to keep it…revenge wasn't the answer…if anything, revenge was what started this mess. I lost the will to speak this out loud.

However, Serenity addressed it far better than I would have ever been able to…if for no other reason than she said the name which I wasn't able to fully connect with the darkness that was quickly consuming someone I thought I knew.

"No, Joey…can't you see that anger and revenge will only make things worse; that's just how Mai got this way. Marik is so full of anger and hate that he gets pleasure from watching other people suffer." Her voice was shaking, and bringing silent shaking sorrow to my mind; I silently agreed with her.

After all that I had seen of my father, which is second in knowledge only to Ishizu, who knew about something that I was never quite brave enough to ask my father about…his childhood-it made sense the way it was said.

I proceeded to exit the room, but Ishizu put a hand on my shoulder, somewhat preventing my exit. "You need to hear this more than anyone."

"Why?" I whispered softly. "Why should I hear what would only agitate my mind further?"

"Because it concerns something that lies dormant within your mind." Ishizu said in her characteristically cryptic voice. I was fed up with the way that both Ishizu and my father seemed to take comfort within cryptic messages.

"I will, but I have a quick question for you…one that you must answer with nothing hidden or shrouded in words…" I waited until I had my aunt's undivided attention. "Were the predictions about your duel true?"

"No," She answered softly.

"Would you care to know why I was hesitant to believe you?" "Hesitant" was an understatement on all counts…I was flat out against them. She nodded, after which I continued with a slight smile. "You forgot the big picture." I was wishing I had the tablet in front of me to help prove my point. "If history is repeating itself, and Kaiba is the sorcerer in the tablet…you said that the battle will be fought again. If you won your duel against Kaiba…I can't exactly word it, but do you understand?"

"Very perceptive; the thought never crossed my mind." Ishizu said softly, changing the subject soon after. "What I am about to reveal will shed light on a dream you had years ago. It affected you for weeks, always causing you to shake in your sleep, fearful that it would return. "

I paled, the frantic screams of the fated child coming back into my mind. I started shaking. "You know who that child was?" I asked fearfully.

"Mhera, that child…was your father. And what you heard…was the first of the many twists of fate that brought his cruel nature to the position it holds now."

I shook with indescribable fear. "Tell me how this came to be." I softly said, dreading what I would find out about the one who never wished to be a Tomb-keeper.

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**DH: **So sorry for the cliff-hanger, but at least you kind of know what happens after this. I understand the prompt wasn't as creatively used as in my others, but it did prompt me. Please review.


	25. Composed Within Opposed Without

**DH AN: **These next four chapters are poems I wrote for a Creative writing class with a bit of my fan fictions on the brain. This one describes my AU Marik to a 'T'. Please enjoy it.

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**Composed Within Opposed Without**

Soft and gentle

Hard and rough

An artist's greatest accomplishment as well as their most disastrous failure

Alone yet surrounded

Saved from solitude

And never rescued

Loved, and unloved

Intimidating and intimidated

Fated by force

Forced by fate

Composed within, opposed without

All opposite and never constant

How can this be true?

The answer is in you

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****DH:** There are three more after this, and don't be afraid to tell me if they're not up to par.


	26. Smile

**DH AN: **This is another poem I wrote for a Creative writing class. This can either be read as Mhera reflecting on Marik's genuine smile or Mokuba doing the same with Kaiba. Enjoy.

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Smile

What is it about the face that I love most?

When a genuine smile crosses that face

It is such a rare treat, one that I have yet to get used to completely

In combination with genuine laughter, sun shines through the darkest day

Nothing could ruin the expression just as nothing could ruin the moment

Nothing could ruin a smile on that face

It has a place where nothing was before

And nothing will ever be

It has always been there

Buried under years of a straight face

And I hope it stays in its newly found place

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**DH: **I don't usually do poetry like this, but I hope you like it.


	27. Distance Smile

**DH AN: **This poem is written once more as a Marik POV or Kaiba POV. Enjoy.

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**Distance Smile**

I watch two individuals share a smile between them

It is a sight that I wish I could share

But my smiles have long since gone and left

Never genuine are my expressions

Always hiding something

Never at peace

But this distance…brings a genuine smile to my lips

At last I feel at ease

An inner peace, those two will never know

A smile brought to me

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DH:

Yes I like the unexpected genuine smile. 


	28. Elegance

**DH AN: **As mentioned before these are poems I wrote for a Creative writing class with my stories on the brain. References **Jeweler.**

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**Elegance**

A swan flying overhead

As a ballerina somehow stays perfectly balanced on her toes

While curtains rustle softly in the wind

Portrait painted by delicate hand

Beloved memories never planned

But ever-treasured as the best

Sculptured icons, new and old

Classic things that, once bold

Now are valued more than gold

An old movie where the guy really sweeps the girl off her feet

A devotion that never fails nor wavers

A golden trust unbroken, all with a single token

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**DH:** Please review. I don't think I'll be writing any more poems soon…unless I get huge response.


	29. Cherishing What Matters

**DH AN: **I'm back with an anniversary (*actually on time?*) **Prompted Oneshot**, using the prompt **The one thing that I still know **from the 31 days archive for September 2008**. **Please enjoy **Cherishing What Matters. **

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**Timeline**: Before With this Ring, but after the flashback originally occurred

**POV**: Sheon 1st Person

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**29: Amethysteelshipping (Sheon X Mhera)**

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I wiped my hands on a misplaced dish towel, throwing it in the bin marked "used", and stepped out of the restaurant, a small smile plastered on my face. Upon my exit from the comely gray-bricked building that has been my place of employment since I was of working age, I felt a light breeze on my face as my smile grew wider. There are several things that I know to cherish, and pleasant work-free afternoons were one of those that promptly presented itself as such.

I walked slowly to the dock adjacent to the warehouse, one that I knew all too well. But for reasons unknown I focused not on the atrocious event that had taken place there seven years prior; rather focusing on the reunion that took place a few days later.

No one will know how hard it was for me to hear what exactly had occurred, and how much I wished to be able to provide the support that my close friend needed most. My close friend…who literally fell into my world without warning, not that I would have wanted any. She, yes she, is another aspect that I know without a doubt to cherish, more so than the work-free afternoons I seldom get.

I still can't believe that this close friend of…how many years- fifteen, I think- that this close friend is the one I am privileged to request…fervently to spend my remaining days with. I know the basic answer…but should one really know that? Her father said that it should be obvious, but I'm not too sure. I stuffed my hands in my pockets as that childishly boy-like smile crossed my face. It was the smile she always has said that makes her smile, no matter how long she's gone without one…which hasn't been often.

That's what I like most about her. She always smiles. Well not exactly always, but I can't bear to see anything but joy on her face; it has a large place that would be unsuccessfully filled by anything else.

There is one thing that I know without a doubt, and that is, if given an opportunity to change all that I have done for Mheralo Ishtar; I, Sheonel Yagasawi, would never alter it.

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**DH: **Did you like it? The prompt will also be used for a Jewelshipping Oneshot, that I might post next week since May 3rd is a special date. Please Review.


	30. Memories in Light

**DH AN: **I'm back with another Prompted Oneshot using the prompt, "The one thing that I still know" Please enjoy **Memories in Light**

Timeline: After PR, but before Healing

POV: Marik 1st Person

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**#30: Father Daughter Bonding (M&M) Post-Jewelshipping (MXF)**

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**Memories in Light**

I watch her, and marvel, as that is all I can do. For, she is so reminiscent of…of the one who was my rescuer from solitude. Inwardly I smile; outwardly, I keep my straight face. Years of perfection are on my side, however, Mheralo's perceptiveness is on hers. She raised an eyebrow upon catching sight of the calendar that rests on the kitchen table, after which my interest is piqued, and I cannot help but look as I took a sip of my coffee.

It reads May Third. I watched as Mheralo started to bite her lip, almost not noting that I was on the verge of spitting out my coffee in surprise. How could that have caught me off guard? How? I stood swiftly from the table, both palms supporting my weight, as I slowly regained my composure.

I took a few deep breaths, but even with that preparation, I still found the words that I used sounding far too terse, and laden with ice that needn't be there. "Is there anything scheduled today, Mheralo?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Go and check for me. If there happens to be anything of importance, let me know so I can reschedule. There should be nothing of that sort though" As she nodded, I smiled slightly. "I do appreciate this, Mheralo; make no mistake." I handed her a set of silver keys; the keys to my office. "You shall receive further instruction when you meet me there."

"But if I have your keys how will you-"

"That shouldn't be your concern." I said too softly as I stepped out of the room. I padded quietly through the hallway, certain that I was quite ahead of Mheralo. Silently entering my bedroom, I padded over to the shelf embedded into the wall, pressing the small switch on my right. I smirked as the shelf slide aside, for I was not thought of as the "Wall-switch lover" without reason. For some reason, secret passages held a fascination for me for a long time, after which I put that fascination to good use.

A switch on the left caught my eye, and I pressed it curiously. Snorting, a smug expression crossed my face with the thought that it is nothing but a faulty switch, but that's when I heard a creaking sound coming from the ceiling as two large inner tiles slid aside under the outer two, revealing a breath-taking, sadly skewed, Egyptian sunrise. I stepped back to the door to marvel at it in the best angle I could manage. The colors are just as I remember them.

I walked back to the shelf switch. The skylight…that was the first thing I ever set up on a switch, though the lower corridors had always been thought my pioneering use of that. Until now. Strange how certain unrelated memories seem to trigger each other. I pressed the left switch once more, the colors, and breath-taking quality, vanishing as I returned to my task.

I paced carefully down the smooth stone steps, the sound echoing around me, until I reached a wall…or so it would seem. I calmly pressed the switch on my right, one that I must know by touch, and the dark wood shelf that hid the corridor slid aside. I softly stepped out of the corridor, the shelf sliding back into place soon after. I paced to my desk, swiftly removing paper and pen from my drawers along with a large binder that served as my schedule-keeping device.

I heard the door quickly being unlocked, or more precisely, it was the insertion and removal of the incorrect key, and then the correct key unlocking the door. Mheralo stepped through, but in the dim light, I thought I saw another…sadly realizing it was nothing but my memories playing tricks on me. My memories of…my Filiron Rylae.

"Sir, reporting as requested." My daughter's gently firm voice brought me out of my thoughts.

"Yes," I drawled. "Now…my schedule has a few things that I trust you can handle with this." I pulled a dueling deck out of the same drawer that held the Millennium Rod…a deck that she knows how to effectively use; she should after the countless hours I had her train with it; for just this purpose. I sadly saw her eyes widen in fearful surprise. "You are ready for this. I know you'll use this deck as I would. And I am somewhat apologetic that I had duels scheduled for today." I placed the deck into her hands. "Don't disappoint me."

"Yes sir." She walked toward the door.

"Best of luck to you, my Mheralo." I said before she left. I knew she was smiling at this, not because of any magic, but call it a father's intuition. She softly shut the door behind her, leaving me alone to my thoughts once again. I opened the bottom drawer of my desk, which only held a few sentimental items, among them a spool of purple ribbon that matched the hue of the robe hanging over the back of my chair. I cut a generous portion of the ribbon and pocketed it deftly. Stepping out into the hallway, I made my way to the oasis. I walked to the lily bush, stooping to cut the most delicate lily off, careful around its petals. Calmly walking to the entrance to the oasis, I took the door to the left soon after.

I kept walking until I came to a door, the last door before…it mattered not. I was almost there anyway. There was one maybe two things I still know…one, Filiron would give me a good talking to if she were still here, and two, I still loved her; and nothing could change that.

I opened the door slowly, and knelt at her grave; as I have done countless years before. With a sigh I drew the ribbon from my pocket, and deftly tied it around the lily, threading the wedding band that was far too small for my finger within the ribbon before tying it off. I placed it on the ground in front of me. There was one thing I still knew, that I still loved her and that love would be light in darkness.

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**DH: **I hope that was okay. I think it turned out a bit more father daughter than I wanted, but I think it ended nicely. Easy POTO reference to spot.


	31. Discipline

**DH AN:** I'm back with another **Prompted Oneshot **using the 31_days prompt Discipline Please enjoy **Discipline.**

**AN 2: Discipline **as used in this one shot is 1) behavior in accord with rules of conduct; behavior and order maintained by training and control or 2) Training expected to produce a specific character or pattern of behavior, especially training that produces moral or mental improvement.

**POV**: Marik 1st Reflective

**TL**: **Powers Revealed **after the Raji rod incident, but before they meet in the office…

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**#31: Marik reflective piece**

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**Discipline**

_Discipline. I believe there are two connotations of this word; more, actually; but what my prospect does not know is that I intend to use both of these. One of the connotations has already been presented to her; the one involving behavior in a situation. This very recent occurrence has proven very affirming of my theory once more. _I placed my elbows on my desk, lacing my fingers together and placing my chin on the newly formed platform.

_Usually, when I pull that mere stunt,…those on the other end are shocked speechless. _I chuckled darkly as numerous shocked expressions crossed my mind. _She was only shocked to a point of hard shaking. I'll admit that she caught on quickly; that kind of wit shall get her far, as easily as it will get her into trouble. _

_Her discipline intrigues me, because as I mentioned to her; most people wouldn't be so…calm if they were in the situation dear Mheralo has found her way into…of course I gave her no other options…she had no choice but accept the proposition; how this turns out is in her hands now. I am eager to find out whether her discipline will serve her during the upcoming duel, or if doubt shall overcome her discipline._

_If doubt does overcome discipline, my easy victory will be assured. However I do not want an easy victory; I'd hate to have to cut the fun short with a victory of that nature. However, my victory is assured no less. Her strategy shall be torn to pieces, because of the editions I've made to my deck. _I swiftly pulled two cards from the deck that lay on my desk. I fingered the editions specifically designed to make her strategy more costly to execute, specifically concerning her ignorance when it comes to activating effects that require a discard from the hand.

_And then…there is something that I doubt she has considered. The Sword Heirs do have a protection from switching control, but only when they remain face up on the field. While I have the necessary cards to flip a Sword Heir facedown, then take control of it; I'm certain my opponent will unknowingly aid that strategy. _I pulled another card from the deck.

_One that, while working in tandem with the other two, is vexing enough on its own. A card that will allow me to decide the fate of the options my opponent possesses with every passing turn. Of course this card is not without its drawbacks, for I must discard a card every turn from my own hand in order to keep it active; a small price to pay, for a victory in my grasp. _

I heard soft footsteps in the hallway. _It appears she has come early; not that I'll refuse to see her, rather, perhaps this is a good indication of how tonight's events shall go. For the record, I do not want my Mheralo's discipline to lessen its aid to her…I want her to make me sweat with apprehension at least once. Somehow, I know she shall not disappoint me. _I heard the footsteps cease; she was going to knock. "_Just come in, Mheralo."_

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**DH: **I will update **Powers Revealed **within the next week or two; and yes this is quite good for the upcoming climactic conclusion. *Marik's maniacal laughter* should be at the end of this.


	32. Memorable Lessons

**DH AN:** I have another Oneshot, the Prompt being Forgiveness, the fact that it was father's day yesterday, and a request for a hug from a reader. Please Enjoy **Memorable Lessons**

**Timeline:** Post Battle City

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**32: Marik Mhera cuteness. **

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**Memorable Lessons**

Marik Ishtar's hard features always stared back at him, always with guilt waiting to show itself in undertone. It was a guilt that would never leave. He sighed into the voiceless mirror. A soft whisper was upon his lips, just as guilt laden as his face. "It is said that a father's duty is to keep their offspring safe from harm…to only find satisfaction in seeing them succeed…" He clenched a fist his face hardening as he forced the soft words through half-gritted teeth. "But all I've done…" He sighed, voice becoming almost inaudible to the extent that he could barely hear it. "Is betray a trust that has always existed between us, using it to my benefit, and solely for that purpose…" A tear touched his cheek, his last phrase holding a lingering sob. "For that alone, I shouldn't be here."

"You shouldn't think like that." A soft voice met his ears. He turned to see his daughter staring him in the face, eyes that held her mother's mesmerizing magic and his lustrous hue reading his face. "I don't have to hear what you were saying to know…you doubt your purpose."

_You've been around my sister far too much. _Marik thought with a swiftly appearing amused smirk. However, that did nothing to ease the guilt from his face. "How long have you been here, Mheralo?" His voice was soft, but the whisper was gone.

"Long enough…" She sighed softly.

"If it has been long enough for you, then why don't you leave?" Marik hotly retorted.

"I have two feet that can guide me where I so choose." Mhera said simply as she placed herself in a sitting position on the ground. "And I'm staying right here."

Marik felt a smile play on his lips. That statement was one of his better mantras. He was surprised as he saw Mhera smile brightly. "I knew it was in there somewhere." Her smile faded somewhat. "You're troubled…"

"I'm fine." Marik stated defensively.

"You lie." Mhera was shaking, "If anything, you lie to yourself." Mhera looked up at him, "You deserve better than that."

Marik turned away from Mhera in silence, after which he turned his eyes toward her. "If anyone deserves better from me; it's you. I did nothing but groom you for my own foolish purposes."

"Have I told you of anyone taking physical advantage of me?" She smiled, the answer was 'no'. Marik was silent. "Remember that little thing you told me about using an opponent's strength against them?…Whenever a physical predicament, though there were very few… that advice proved useful."

Marik sputtered. "You were in fights?! Why did I not know about this?"

"I was able to take care of it…" Mhera sighed. "But back to my point…all things can be used for benevolence even if originally for a malevolent purpose."

_You _have_ been around my sister too much. _Marik silently laughed. His smile was now gone. "Even if that is true…there is still no excuse for what you were forced to endure …at my cruel hands and selfishly misguided whims…" Tears were threatening to show on his already melancholy face. "I made you face trials you never should have gone through…"

"That wasn't entirely your fault…" Mhera said softly. "_I _was the one whose curiosity got the best of her. _I _was the one who agreed to that proposition." Marik interrupted Mhera's locution.

"You forget, Mheralo, that _I_ was the one who proposed it. _I _was the one who gave you no other options." He shook. "_I _was the madman who meticulously planned your defeat in the proposed match, who kept so infallible records on all your matches so that _I _knew how to counter each and every one of your strategies. _I _was so blinded by a need to crush your attempts to do what you felt was right; and went against you...vehemently opposed to your choice rather than accepting it for what it was." He breathed in sharply. "Think about that before you try to assuage my guilt."

"I'm not trying to." Mhera said softly. She stood up walking to face him. Her zenith coming at his chin, she stopped right in front of him. "I…I was blind to things that hurt you as well. And I failed to see that when you needed me most; I chose to turn the other way."

"I brought that upon myself…you know that." Marik sighed gently.

"Quit trying to make all of this your fault." Mhera almost hissed. "You know it isn't."

"You sound just like your mother." Marik knew he had told her that as often as he could, but why deny something that is true? He was surprised that Mhera didn't retort back.

Rather it was a simple "I know." Marik gently placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, a gesture that he held as one of confident faith, trust and approval.

He pulled her swiftly toward him, and wrapped his arms protectively around her. "I know that you know." Marik felt the comforting weight of Mhera's chin on his shoulder. He felt guilty again; when was the last time this happened? The sad thing was that he was unable to remember. He couldn't bring himself to care about that. A memory flashed through his mind; he grimaced as the image of the moments he was resisting the urge to let his temper get the best of him…not only was it one of his only successful attempts, it was also the only one where he was remorseful as soon as it had happened- flashed through his mind.

Marik inhaled, a sob lining it. "I'm so sorry…for every time you have needed my comfort…and I was too self-absorbed to care."

"Don't be." Mhera whispered into his shoulder. "You gave me the chances that few seldom get. You forced me to deal with my problems first." She now was sobbing. "And you always were there when I really needed you."

"I don't see-" Marik cut himself off as another image entered his mind.

He was on the roof of a concrete building….in the middle of a duel…but the strange thing was that there was barely any distance between he and his opponent. "Stop shaking and face this…" He paused thoughtfully; her predicament was quite out of her favor. She would be playing off her draw as she had used all the cards in her hand. But he could see what she often failed to, and offered these words. "You aren't completely hopeless…yet." All but the last word lacked his intimidating undertone.

The image faded. "I never knew…that effect was achievable." Marik murmured

Mhera smiled. "You'd be surprised what one chooses to remember…as well as what some seem to forget." They both heard loud, gentle knocking from downstairs, at the front door. "Like forgetting your siblings are coming…" Mhera couldn't help but smirk, as she had gotten her father sputtering twice in one day.

"Wha- Mheralo; I NEVER knew that…wait; they're here?"

"You don't think they would forget to see you?" Mhera laughed lightly.

"I'm not prepared for anything." Marik muttered.

He then had a slip of paper pressed into his hand. "That's another thing you taught me; to be prepared for any situation." Marik was silent as Mhera quickly uttered. "Reservations for three at a restaurant, and a waiter who knows how to provide excellent service." She hugged him again. "Happy Father's Day."

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**DH: **I hope y'all liked it, and tell your fathers you love them. Please review.


	33. Questions of Manipulation

**DH AN: **I'm back with another **Prompted Oneshot** using the following prompt**:** For I have made her prison be her every step away from me. Please enjoy **Questions of Manipulation. **This is dedicated to **Nuit Songeur, **who not only suggested this idea but also is going through a difficulty in her personal life.

**POV: **Marik 1st Person

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**#33: Marik Reflective Piece with hints of Post-Jewelshipping**

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**Questions of Manipulation**

I quietly stepped away from the room where I let the proposition come to fruition. Her gaze still lingers within my mind, the question she has asked thrice still hidden within them. Are The R.H. and the man walking through these corridors in physical silence…are they one in the same?

I tucked my head a bit into my chest as I headed for my office, eyes watching the floor. I clenched my fists. How could I be so manipulatively cunning, get the result I wanted, and be feeling…remorse? Perhaps he and I do differ in some respects; yet I still know that this R.H., this manipulatively suave persona, is me.

But am I going too far? Am I taking further steps than I wish? I curbed my thoughts as I swiftly retreated down the stairs. I smiled slightly as I pressed the Wall-switch, watching the wall slide aside to grant me entrance. My expression quickly changed as I recalled something said earlier. Was this Wall-switch lover someone I would wish to know and trust? Have I made a prison within my own desires, one that seems to get stronger with every step she takes away from me and towards this enigma of The R.H. that I myself created?

Why have I suddenly become so concerned over what has occurred? I seemed to have no qualms over this when I began…why would I feel this way after my plot came to fruition? Is it explained by the shock of realization that I saw in her eyes as I revealed the elements that kept this duel in my favor? Or by the way she denied the amnesty I offered? I sighed. Most would very gladly accept _any _amnesty from me. But she refused it, allowing herself to be thrust into her accepted fate. She proved both accepting and strong.

I admire that about her. Strength is a good asset to possess, but acceptance is also a good one to prove useful. Strength and acceptance work in tandem with each other. True strength is accepting defeat when one has performed to the best of their ability; …Mheralo has certainly proven that.

By this time, I had made it to my office. I slammed the door shut, swiftly locking it with my key. I smiled as I stashed the key in my robe's pocket. I stepped behind my executive chair, swiftly removing my robe to place it on the back of my chair in one fluid motion.

I swiftly activated my shelf switch, sighing as I proceeded up the staircase that revealed itself from my activated switch. My steps were soft and purposeful, though they still echoed upon the steps. I swiftly struck the switch on my left, which allowed the barrier in front of me to recede. I smiled slightly as I stepped through the doorway leading into my spacious bedroom. My long strides brought me near the bed within minutes…I sadly realized that the object I wished to avoid…was unavoidable.

A portrait, painted by my hand with care, and plenty of time…thirteen years and five months, to be exact. The subject of the portrait was even more scrutinizing. The emerald eyes of my bride looked down upon me. I grimaced as my mind cruelly added the thought that she was only alive for a short thirteen years after solitude had let me loose of its melancholy hold.

There was a reason I wished to avoid the portrait's gaze tonight. I could hear her disappointment at my deception, the rising storm of fury within her voice…see the sadness within her gaze. I gripped the dresser underneath and to the left of the portrait hard. How could I picture that so clearly…after seven and a half years without her? The more pressing question would be… why?

I clenched my fist, looking at the floor as I felt my mind's eye begin to show something.

I saw her standing at the other end of the room, soon after taking a seat on one of the two chairs to her right, releasing a frustrated lamented sigh. I froze as I saw her gaze upon me…it was one that filled me with a slight amount of dread. Her voice was icily quiet, lacking any warmth held prior. "What have you done?" She asked through partially clenched teeth, with a pause between each word. She stood abruptly, and took soft calculated steps toward me. I felt my stance sink a bit as she took her final step toward me.

She gripped my shoulders hard. I winced as she repeated her question, this time without vocal pauses. "What have you done?" I felt her body start to shake, the movement sending tremors through her hard grip and into my shoulders. Her voice was but a whisper as she brought us both to our knees. She looked at me with pleading eyes; eyes that pleaded for an answer. "Marik…what have you done to yourself?" Her voice shook as she said my name. I started shaking as I fought the tears coming down my face.

With a soft gasp I awoke and saw that I was knelt on the floor, left hand resting on the dresser and right hand resting on the bed. I was hearing my heavy breaths resound in my ears. Slowly I rose, gripping the dresser with both my hands, which went limp after I was on my feet. I wiped sweat from my brow with a trembling hand. The last question was directed at me, a fact I knew without a doubt…but the other one…could easily have been directed towards my deception, as well as my persistence at the event that had brought my finest plot to complete fruition.

I felt remorse once more. How I despised the way that feeling always came after events occurred, rather than before one begins. I suppose that was the way one was to understand that wrongs were committed. As I stepped over to a chair on the other side of the room, a realization one might describe as an epiphany came to my mind. I took a seat to mull this angle over.

Perhaps, I was not remorseful for the duel's outcome as I had originally thought, but for the numerous ways I had manipulated the circumstances and used deception on numerous occasions to ensure the end result would be what I desired. I gave no other options, making it clear that the proposition was best taken rather than left…and of course how could I forget using a card that granted me the ability to further manipulate the circumstances by which the proposition was pushed to fruition. And the numerous notes showing my alias revealed themselves as well.

I shook it off…it was worth thinking about, but not now…not after all of my goals for the moment had been reached. Remorse was for the weak, just as tears and pity were. None of these three would further anything, only delay the inevitable choices and fates that must be realized and accepted.

I pushed this whole instance from my mind, if only temporarily, as I leaned my head on my shoulder, drifting off into sleep.

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**DH: **I hope this was good. This is my last (Planned) update till August. I will be on retreat this Thursday afternoon thru Sunday, and be volunteering in the mornings next week, not to mention turning another year older. I may be able to respond to reviews in the morning before I leave, so please leave a review.


	34. Masked Emotions

**DH AN:** Finally I have an update, another one-shot using the prompt **Tireless hunger in your eyes. **I apologize profusely for the two month absence. Two Words: College Freshman. This takes place right after the one-shot **Questions of Manipulation. **Be warned this is riddled with Phantom references and details form Powers Revealed Chapter 28 (my numbers) Enjoy **Masked Emotions.**

**POV: **Marik 1st Person

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**#34: Marik Reflective**

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**Masked Emotions**

Answers…when one satiates a question, it seems as if the single question breeds a hundred more. As I wake from my semi-turbulent slumber, this phrase that seems so familiar is on my mind once again.

Was that duel, and the deception leading up to it, worth my time? To that I would answer a firm yes. Aside from the deception, which was of its own accord, the elements of this ordeal give me a place to reference from, to see a clear chronological pace of improvement, to be able to satisfy this newfound hunger to see her succeed. Perhaps that is the result I desire most out of this proposition that I… forced her into. To see my Mheralo improve as the years march onward into the least understood of mankind's knowledge; the knowledge of time and where it leads.

I slowly stood from the chair, stretching soundlessly. I took long strides toward the door, only to find myself stop at the large round mirror that is positioned to the lower left of the portrait. Looking at the reflection the glass presented me with, I inwardly shuddered as I saw a stone, calculating face- the face of my R.H. persona- stare me back. I shuddered, turning away from it slowly; when had this profound change been revealed? What _was_ I doing to myself? I found myself asking more questions, until my mind stumbled across a couple that would be best answered, and forgotten if unanswered.

What could have been…if my beloved were still here?

And…

How far was I willing to let this go?

Neither of these questions had obtainable or certifiable answers. And I hungered for those answers more than anything else. I stepped towards my Wall-switch, with intent to watch the sunrise. The room where my plot had come to fruition was missing its eastern wall for that purpose alone. The accompanying view of the landscape often meant nothing to me.

I sighed as I stepped down into my office. Because I always watched the sunrise when the thought of my beloved simply crossed my mind, this time it was a bit harder. For I had seen her in my mind, I was saddened as she gazed upon me with a gaze I should be thankful exists not in my memories, but in my dreams alone. If the goal of that vision was to get me thinking of my actions; whoever put it there shall rest assured knowing they have succeeded.

I glanced at the dark cloak that hangs over my chair. Therein lay another thing I could ponder. Rather than taking a seat in the executive chair that was rightfully mine, I took a seat in the chair closest to the door of my office. How different it was to be on the other side of the room. I was surprised when the chair I was in started to wobble precariously. So _this_ was why the occupant always seemed to never sit still. I chuckled softly. Looking at my desk in reference to the position I was in now…_I_ felt intimidated at the executive chair staring me down. The thought that this minor experience would change the way I handled my demeanor in my office crossed my mind for a moment, after which I shoved it aside as laughable.

But my attention turned to my cloak once again. How was it both a comfort and a dread at the same time? If the set of facial expressions I was using frightened me without wearing it then…I shook it away, but the truth it presented was undeniable. It made the R.H. part of me far too tangible for my liking; far too tangible for me to ignore, far too familiar in aloofness. Looking out from _within_ this persona…I would never have seen it.

I tensed as a realization struck me. Doubtful that it would ever come to me from within the R.H. persona, my brows started to furrow at the epiphany. I had ignored all reason, any part of me that indicated that what I was doing while in this frighteningly real persona was not my normal behavior. It was quite sobering to realize that…through giving no other options…through turning blind eye and deaf ear towards both her silent and spoken solemn pleas…my mind was wandering through less than pleasant memories…ones that, along with those questions, would be better put to use if forgotten.

I silently shoved my hands into my pockets, shaking not from the cold alone, as self-fury made a fine accompanist in this action. I had broken an unspoken oath. No words were needed to express what oath was temporarily forgotten, rather ignored. I had felt it within the satisfied expression I showed her when my plot was coming to fruition…all thanks to Mheralo's performance in that role. Something on my face showed pain…for I saw that register within her eyes…but it showed me also that she doubted whether it was actually there. But the pain was there, however I had pushed it aside to worry over later. It was the pain of manipulation, of betrayal, of callousness; it was the pain of a broken trust.

I glanced at the clock above my mahogany bookshelf, sighing at my 'waste' of a third of an hour. Stepping out of my office, I was hit by a blast of cold air, and quite reluctantly went to retrieve my cloak. Donning it with a swishing flourish, I retreated into the perpetually chilled hallways. However, the hood remained lowered, so that my face was visible for two reasons. One, there were almost none who would be up at this early hour; and two, I was not in the right mind to become The R.H. once more… not so soon.

Resolutely walking toward the hidden staircase at the end of the current hallway, I dug my chin into my chest, letting a soft sigh echo as I gently pressed the Wall-switch. As the wall receded my steps were smooth and slow. I traversed the stairs hearing nothing, save the sound of my own echoing footsteps. I sighed somewhat contentedly as I reached the zenith of the staircase.

However I found my sigh cut short. I heard something on the other side of the door; a muffled sound. Though the sound was dampened, I could easily liken it to a fist resolutely pounding a table, only to have the contact sound feeble as it was found to be useless. I leaned against the door; the only logical explanation making my stomach sour as it slammed into me. She couldn't have stayed in the room all night. Fervently I willed my assumption to be wrong, but it was proven true by the most unexpected action.

"_He had me under his thumb the entire time…" _Mheralo's voice rang in my mind. It was so true, but that was not the worst part. It sounded so melancholy; as if she had done poorly. Her performance was quite contrary to that assumption. I shook, vainly attempting to sway the rush of pallor to my face. Her thoughts- anyone's thoughts- are a beautiful thing, meant to be guarded and kept from others. Mheralo had not done this, which was the only way I could have heard her thoughts. No one should take the sanctity of another's private thought, even if they have the ability to do so. Yes, it is true that I have manipulated people by breaking this rule. I balled my hands into fists. But I would never do that to my Mheralo, especially after the ordeal she was put through at my hands. Just as I would never blame her for-

My thoughts were halted as I heard the muffled sound once more, accompanied by a low moan behind the door. Locked in an inner struggle, my mind unwilling to hide behind the door and hear her suffer from the pain I caused her, and my body unwilling to proceed any further; my stomach soured as I stood there.

I felt my nails bite into my palms as I clenched my fists far too tightly. I resolutely shook any anxiety I had about this matter away with a deep breath. I turned the knob so quietly that not even a phantom could best it. I entered smoothly and swiftly, not wanting what spark had gotten me over my temporary impasse to fail me now. The spark was soon diminished when my eyes fell upon my Mheralo's gaunt features; features that were usually brightened by joy. I paled, my breath coming out shallow, unsure of how to approach this.

Slowly striding toward the table that was bearing her weight; I stopped precariously and soundlessly, choosing instead to sidle along the south wall, in hopes that I would not be seen. I saw a small sliver of sunlight at the farthest edge of the missing eastern wall. My eyes quickly shifted towards Mheralo, and…I saw a slight smile on her face as she glanced behind to see the sunlight enter the room. But as quickly as it had appeared; it was gone; revealed to be nothing more than a mask…one forged by my own hands. The mask gone, I saw fear etched across her face. It was a fear that I had never seen, never…_wanted _to see. I shook almost too violently, thankful that I was still hidden by the shadows that the sunrise had yet to banish away. I inhaled in sorrow… if it was not a fear _of_ me…it was fear _because_ of me….

"_I know you hide in the shadows. You always have…and yet you reveal yourself when I need you…" _There was a slight pause, "_Do you realize how shaky your breathing is?" _I paled as I saw an all too familiar smirk meet my eyes. It quickly faded from her face; replaced by the ashen, fear-filled expression…my eyes narrowed in concentration…the pallor and drawn face were not from fear alone. She hadn't slept. Moving from my concealment, I watched her eyes betray her as they should have behind the wall days earlier; following every move I made. However I was in no mood to smirk in triumph as I would have two days prior. I stepped toward her, steps soft and silent as I wiped all expression from my face to assuage what fears that I was certain would show on her countenance.

She raised her eyes to meet mine almost without hesitation, and I felt the twinge of guilt for what had caused that act return with more potency. For Mheralo's eyes told me that she was seeing the stone face of The R.H. scrutinizing her. They were dull and hopeless. She was like a wandering child, lost and helpless; trying to determine whether I was a father or just the phantom of a father, taking the name and nothing more. My posture stiffened as I realized I had done just that. I saw Mheralo shy away from me once more. Seeing that pained me more than words could express. I had never lashed out at her in anger, and yet she reacted as if I had. I had been easily patient with her, and she acted as though I was one to take every chance to snap at her with impatience. I narrowed my eyes ever so slightly. What made those reactions so noticeable? And why did it bother me? Why? I furrowed my brows at the question.

I was inwardly thankful that I was soon interrupted. But not for what had intruded upon my thoughts. A soft sobbing met my ears. Looking, I saw her shy away from me once more, trying to hide the tearstains that were present on her face. I shook with disgust as I recalled how harshly I had responded to her prior tears. It really was simple; tears never suited her. But after a second look at how harshly I had reacted, I realized that I had been far too terse…frightening her. I inhaled slowly, softly; watching her unnecessarily tense at what little sound I made.

I silently knelt on the floor, as I wished to be at eye level with Mheralo as I spoke. I gently placed my left hand on her shoulder, using my right to gently wipe her tears away. "Why do you let these tears rest on your face when they do not suit you, Mheralo?" My voice was calm and gentle.

"_I failed…" _She was using her mind to speak rather than her voice. I suspect it was because she would liken it to the croaking of a toad with all the crying she was doing. I wanted to speak, but I also wanted her to finish. She did not keep me waiting for long. _"I failed to make the proposition worth your while…I played right into your hands."_

"That's not failure. Playing into your opponent's hands is no failure when you have no other option." I sighed softly. "You realize I gave you no other options…not just during the duel, dear Mheralo."

"_Que sera, sera." _She responded softly as she slowly leaned into me, unable to fight off sleep any longer. I wrapped my arms around her protectively, pondering what she had said, unsure if it was intentionally said or merely a sleep-deprived slur. I got off my knees still holding onto my daughter protectively, taking a last look at the rising sun as I left the room taking a right soon after. I opened a locked door straight ahead while managing to hold my lightweight charge at the same time, relocking the door after I exited. I then took a left, and stopped at the last room on the left side of the hallway. I almost tripped over the twin steps that are immediately after the doorway. Quickly recovering, I set Mheralo on the bed with a whisper in her ear.

"Indeed, my Mheralo. What will be, will be." I left the room to get some sleep myself; somehow knowing I would sleep easily now that she was back with me.

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**DH:** I am sorry for the wait…I can tell you one thing, I will always be working on a fanfic piece slowly yet surely. I am working on an update for **PDTO** at this point. But I hope this shot will appease you until I get that one done. Please Review.


	35. Insanity In Paradox

**DH AN: **I am here with another Prompted Oneshot, the prompt being **Arguing with the Insane. **Please enjoy **Insanity in Paradox.**

**AN2: POV: **Mhera 1st

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**#35: Father Daughter Bonding (Marik & Mhera) **

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Insanity in Paradox

Sitting among the clutter of my desk was a dark blue folder…the dark blue folder that always held my written papers that my father was finished perusing, after which he would return them to me by way of his folder. A folder that had been there since my father had left for one of his routine business trips…two days earlier. It was a folder that part of me always seemed to dread. I pulled the two sheets of stained paper that were undoubtedly mine from within its faux velvet embrace.

I grimaced, seeing red ink all over the stained paper that I had so painstakingly filled with the solution to the enigmatic puzzle he had given me to solve. He had given me no rules except that the solution was to be the elaborated on to the prescribed length. I had simply followed logic, leading me to this solution. All the red ink was doing was causing my vision to swim. I _had _found _the _one solution. With all twists and turns in place, my mind had strategically and logically danced around the myriad of choices, firmly stepping on this solution. Never have I merely stumbled upon a theoretical solution. They have always come to me through my strategic planning…and plenty of hard-sought patience.

And in this case, there simply were no other solutions.

And yet the ink remained, mocking my intelligence and bruising my pride. I clenched my fist; how audacious heredity is to be so cruel. Every time I look in a mirror, I see the two sides of a puzzle; at times ambivalent, showing both sides of my unique bloodline…other times seeing only the traits of the mother I never knew; the mother who my father always cherished in his memory, and has never been the same without; something I had all too quickly realized during his illness that was now two months gone.

I had subconsciously slid the offending paper aside, letting a sob race into my lungs unbidden, as I inhaled. What was coming over me? I usually was quite tolerant of errors being brought out for me to see; but this…this was different. Had I driven myself to a mild insanity by working myself too hard figuring out the solution? This statement could be proven; one would have been blind not to notice the circles making impressions under my eyes, and I _knew_ any spare time I found was never free of a nudge from that enigmatic quest for that right solution.

Feeling my brows furrow, I realized that I would be unable to satisfy my need for the answer at the moment. I knew he would return in one day's time. Before I slid the pages back into his folder, my eyes caught the ominous eye-shaped signet stamp at the bottom of the last page. His methods never would cease to amaze me. I resolutely tucked the stained pages into concealment. Taking my small oil lamp, I stepped away from my desk toward the bed. I sighed as I turned the oil lamp down, gasping slightly as the minimal amount of oil in the reservoir had caught my attention. Shutting the light source off completely; I silently settled in my sheets, quickly taken by sleep's inviting murmur.

I was awoken by the soft slam of a door a few hours later, jolted into reality from my comfortable position. Could people be less aware of the fact that it was roughly three in the morning? My ire was stalled, replaced by a slight panic as I realized that soft footsteps were echoing outside my hallway. Feigning sleep, I let my ears prepare to tell me what my eyes would not be able to. I heard the doorknob slowly turn, no indication that the door had opened until it was slowly closed with the sound of a latch click. I tried to control my breathing, but felt air rush quicker than it would, had I actually been sleeping. If my visitor knew, their activity gave no indication of this knowledge. Hearing the movement of _his_ folder against the half ream of paper underneath, I tensed slightly as I waited for the reaction that I knew would come when my visitor discovered that I had yet to reclaim my papers.

It never came; rather, I heard my visitor silently move toward the door, and exit.

I inwardly shivered as my feet touched the cold stone floor five minutes after my visitor had made their exit. Preparing to grope in the dark for want of my shoes, my eyes caught the faint amber glint of…an ornate glass container with enough lamp oil to keep my lamp full for two weeks…or more if I were prudent. I would never know how my father knew oddball things like this with such accurate intricacy…I was always pleasantly amazed. I reverently gripped the container, skipping over the cold stone tiles where my small lamp waited, and filled the reservoir to the brim with the easy-flowing liquid. I turned the knob on the lamp so that the light only cast a faint glow on my surroundings. I slipped my feet into my shoes which were as I had suspected, not where I would normally put them. They were slipped slightly under the bed…as if someone had nudged them aside.

Slipping my shoes on, I let a desperate gasp pass my lips as I almost tripped over the two steps up. Shaking it off, I gently nudged the door open. I silently went down the hallway to the last room on the right. I waited outside the door, shivering with slight want to be near the fire I could hear crackling in the fireplace of the adjacent room. I hesitantly entered the room. The fireplace took up half of the wall's length, equidistant from the edges of each wall. I felt the heat lull me into a state of satisfied content. There were two burgundy armchairs that were easy to move short distances and… quite comfortable. The two chairs had their backs facing to me, so I was unable to see who exactly occupied them, but I was certain that someone was in this room. I looked to the left, seeing a bookcase crammed with books, with one spot open. This was not unusual. My father is an avid reader and the book that is absent from the shelf always has a place on the small side table when not in use. However I paled when I caught sight of his dark blue folder where the book would be.

I quickly averted my eyes to the right, grateful to feel the color return to my face as I looked upon an emerald green woven tapestry with my mother's coat of arms embroidered in gold thread, given to her when she was engaged to my father. I gasped, a sob somehow freeing itself from confinement. Their marriage only lasted thirteen years; indirectly it was because of me. I clenched my fists tightly and winced as I felt my nails bite into my palms, letting a soft, unbidden sigh pass my lips, and began to shake incessantly. I released the pressure on my hands, but the shaking did not cease for a good fifteen seconds.

A hand on my shoulder immediately caused the shaking to cease. "You know you are not to blame…Mheralo, why do you continue to doubt me on this?" The book my father had been perusing was now in its customary position, laid open on top of his folder. Looking behind, I saw that my father's eyes were closed, patience exuding from his stance.

"How did you-?" I started but I was cut off.

"I have prior explained how; there really is no need for anything further." He responded softly. He inclined his head toward the chairs, and stepped toward them, letting his hand fall from my shoulder. When I did not move, he returned to me with his gentle hands taking refuge on my shoulders. "Come, we have other matters to discuss, dear one. This matter needn't be brought up again." His last sentence sounded like an order.

I turned away from him, focusing on the wall. "Then neither of us shall be at peace."

He gripped my shoulder hard enough that I noticed. I looked behind. His eyes asked what his mouth would not. Why?

I turned my attention back to the wall, mentally bracing myself for what I would say next. "You see the truth and choose to ignore it." I whispered softly. I did not have to look behind me to know that a reaction was imminent, for the air just seemed to be vibrant with tension. I braced myself to continue. "I see the truth and choose to embrace it." I knew there would be, dreaded, and waited for, his reaction. I wouldn't be able to take back any of my words once they were spoken. I inhaled sharply. "Do you not see how our perspectives on that same event clash?" My voice was a soft whisper, filled with dread that I was unable to mask at this point.

A silent wince of pain ran through my body as his grip on my shoulder tightened. "You know nothing." My father hissed coldly in my ear. He calculatingly released his grip on my shoulder and started to circle me from my left, his head lowered with his eyes still gazing forward. He stopped abruptly after circling me twice, turning upon his heel soundlessly to face the tapestry. His breathing was laden with a struggle to maintain self-control, the struggle to prevent himself from striking me with a verbal whip; it was a struggle that I could not seem to watch him bear. I watched in a silent amazement as he softly stroked the fabric with his fingers, gently ebbing away his fury as well. "You know nothing and yet know everything." He spoke softly one of his favored paradoxes to my dismay. He let a soft throaty chuckle pass his lips, and he stepped toward me. "I have told you that many times before, Mheralo…have I not?"

I nodded solemnly and took a step toward the chairs. However, I was halted. "You will understand in time." His voice was far softer than it should have been in this situation. I was still mulling over this when my father suavely changed the conversation. "There is something I wish to understand at the moment, a matter to which only you have the answer."

I paled slightly as he removed the folder from underneath his open book, and took a seat. Very grudgingly, I took the other seat. "The papers I returned to you are still in this folder…" He paused, gently loosening the papers from their confines. He glanced at me calmly, his next words lightly glazed over with the icy tone that was present when discussing a business matter. "Why don't you have a seat, and you can tell me why these papers have been placed into my care a second time."

I sighed as I somewhat roughly removed the papers from his hands. He looked a bit shocked for a second, but then slid back into his suave expression. Calmly pointing to the signet stamp, certain that he saw it; I then ran my fingers along the whole of the two pages, stopping briefly at every instance of red ink. Standing abruptly, I stood, turning away. "I do not understand." I whispered softly, trying to hide the slight embarrassment in my voice. When no answer came, I turned back to face him.

Perturbed slightly by my father's silence, I sighed, taking to looking at the opaque firelight reflecting off his face. I did not notice that he had gently removed the papers from my hands. He laughed softly and sighed. "You know everything and yet nothing." He stifled a laugh at my puzzled expression.

"You said that earlier." I muttered hotly.

My father's voice dropped to a familiar eerie whisper. "I told you that you know nothing and everything prior; I have now said that you know everything and nothing." His tone became one that held slight insanity as he laughed almost madly.

"Even so, they still mean the same thing, do they not?" I daringly quipped.

"Is that so, dear one?" I shuddered at the way the address passed his lips. "I can easily assure you that there is a difference." He set the pages on the small table between us. "In this developed strategy, you clearly know what you are doing." He chuckled softly. "But you fail to take the risk of disregarding the single rule I gave you in favor of a simpler solution." His eyes insisted on an answer to his next question. "Which had more of a reason behind this?" My father stood from his chair and stepped to my right, continuing his questioning. "Was it a fear of disappointing me or a stubborn loyalty to your sense of obedience?" I shook my head, declining both of those reasons. He nodded and presented the final, correct suggestion. "Did you simply not see it, dear Mheralo?"

I shot him a look of irritation rather than nod and be humiliated further. He took a seat, somehow regaining his composure. "I see." He murmured.

"Oh, really?" I shot back with slight venom in my voice. I could sense that if I was not careful, I would be in a circumstance that I would later regret. I took a deep breath, releasing the spite from my voice. My voice came out softly, almost submissively. "Well …I don't see it, show me…show me the simpler solution."

"Your hesitation bothers me more than you will realize. And yet, I understand how important your pride is to you." He sighed, "The red ink seemed an insult to you?" He asked softly.

"Yes." I murmured softly, feeling my brows furrow in slight agitation.

"I apologize." He said softly. "I meant for you to look at it deeper, not for it to embarrass you." My father pulled the papers off of the table. "How many paragraphs did you write?"

"I wrote eight, sir." I responded softly.

"Nine, Mheralo." He corrected. "Is there anything you noticed about the occurrences of the red ink…when you take a closer look at it?"

I looked, slightly shocked as the realization hit me. "It's not the whole word…only…the single letters…?"

"Yes." He removed a blank sheet of paper from the folder and a pencil from the table. "Now, write the letters down." I did as he asked in the first paragraph, and was amazed and a bit insulted that the ideas had not even crossed my mind. "Now, continue to the next paragraph with a new line." My father added almost tersely.

Repeating the process with the remaining paragraphs, I finished with the names of nine cards that would just as easily accomplish the same thing as the…twenty seven I had used. I shook my head. Was this genius, or simply madness? My father interrupted my musing.

"Technically, you used the simpler solution. You just made me look for it." He smiled slightly.

"But I had no intention of doing that…this was surely a waste of your time." My father did not even minutely change his expression. I yanked the last page from the table. "You say that I am often caught 'looking for a question that does not exist.' Now I say to you that you saw a solution that was unintended." I huffed with tension in the gesture. "Father…it is simply madness that while you place your approval on what you were looking for, you seem to ignore the fact that what you sought was forsaken in favor of a longer solution, appeasing the sole requirement I was given." I was heaving and almost to the point of grief. It should have been so simple.

"The reason it has my approval…dear one, must I have a reason other than that it was the prescribed length?" He stood from his seat, placing his hands upon my shoulders; causing my heaving to cease. "And I am not one to let my preference of a swift defeat cloud the sight of a decent strategy when it is presented." He came around and looked at me silently, whispering, "And I never want to let disapproval be an option when it comes to your work." I doubted my ears until my father turned from me to hide a characteristic smirk. "Never doubt your ears, dear one. I almost doubted mine telling me that you were feigning sleep. Not even ten minutes later, you came and proved my auditory notions true."

I was stricken speechless, as it should have been; taking a seat soon after. After a moment, I stood, inhaling sharply as I heard my father chuckle softly. "See to it that you are well-rested…I would be rather upset if I were woken up at this hour." I suddenly felt the lateness of the hour catch up with me as my stance wavered. I cursed my frictionless shoes as I began to slip.

Instead of making contact with the hard floor, I found myself suspended above it. I saw my father wearing a smirk. "You really should get more…practical footwear, dear one." He chuckled softly, "You've fallen for things far too easily in your current selection." I rolled my eyes at the humor and attempted to regain my footing, but to no avail. I narrowed my eyes as I felt the slight pressure of my father's fingers as he held me above the floor.

"I'm not little anymore." I muttered as my father stood, still supporting my horizontal position, walking towards the door.

He ignored my statement. "I don't recall there being an age limit when it comes to a father carrying his daughter to her bed." I rolled my eyes again as he opened the door, stepping down the two steps. He set me on my bed, uttering a soft, longing sigh.

He made his way toward the door, avoiding his usual tripping over the stairs, to my surprise. But what I heard next, laden with melancholy reminisce shocked me even further. My father's voice danced elegantly through the silence. "I have everything and nothing."

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**DH:** Bad News, I spent over a month on that…Good news that after Tuesday, I will be done with my first semester, and be able to update at least one of my chaptered fics. Please Review.


	36. Confirmation and Confrontation

**DH AN:** Okay, I have another Prompted Oneshot with the prompt **This conversation never happened.** You can thank my perusal of Episodes 82-85 inclusive for this beautiful little spoiler of a Oneshot...but, bear in mind that I'll have to get through quite a bit of Book II before I even reach this point... I don't even know whether I will go with this idea in the long run, but the plot bunny will not leave me alone... so...enjoy **Confirmation and Confrontation. **Big Thank you to **Rugrat 247 **who helped a bunch.

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**#36: "Shattered" Marik Mhera **

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**Confirmation and Confrontation**

Her head was spinning, unknown memories slamming into the futile resistance of a now broken barrier, a wall of glass that shattered under the tremendous barrage of several unrelated details that brought this epiphany. Trying to shut the pain away; the only things that she was now able to decipher were varying murmurs of concern, and one sentence from a familiar voice. "Don't worry; I'll make certain she is well taken care of." The tone suggested that the owner was not concerned at all.

She heard nothing more. The pressure was simply too much to handle.

His mind was juggling a whirlwind of ideas. How could the effects of his Millennium Rod, and subsequently the most vital portion of his genius scheme of protecting his identity from being revealed, have possibly failed? But the more pressing question was what exactly led to the manipulation's breaking point, releasing the memories it suppressed.

No matter which angle he contemplated, he found only two scenarios that were plausible, three if these two scenarios if put together counted as a separate one: Slifer's summoning had triggered a suppressed memory within her mind—perhaps she was able to link the beast to him, subsequently shattering the safety provided by his pseudonym, "Namu"—and thus nullifying the barrier responsible for her amnesia.

He shrugged as he sought the second scenario's involvement; for when Odion revealed that he himself was Marik and "used" the replica of the very item that had implemented the amnesia in the girl, erasing any and all doubt that he was anyone but. In this action, it had done just the opposite; confirming the doubts of one... Nonchalantly twirling a finger amid the cluster of ice cubes in his beverage, he waited, glancing over to a facedown card on the table.

All she could interpret were blurred images, each smudged like a smear upon a sheet of glass; not nearly as clear as they should be. She knew enough to be certain these images were important and well-treasured, and relief swept over her as the haze of fog began to clear slightly, drifting aside to reveal a series of familiar situations. Of familiar conversations and people... one person in particular highlighted among the rest. Relief was overtaken by horror mixed with disbelief as further realization struck. Bits and snatches of different memories- memories that were no doubt hers- assailed her; these anything but comforting, as fingers of dread grabbed at her already weakened mental state. An anchor… A ring… A single card that had yet to be played...the series of images somehow made sense and yet did not seem to have any bearing on the current situation.

She slowly sat up with a low moan, mind still a tad fuzzy on certain details. How did she get here? When did she get here? Who brought her here? But more importantly, where _was _here? She was clearly in a finalist's room…but whose? The last recent occurrences she remembered were Yugi playing his Egyptian God Card…Slifer?...and then…Marik showed up…hadn't Yugi won that card after a duel with him? Nothing made sense after that…she had never associated _Marik _with that card…she remembered _Namu _in possession of Slifer at some point…but why would Namu have that card if it was _Marik _who wanted it? Unless Namu _was_ Marik, but that made no sense either.

But that raised another question, why was Namu so clear in her memories when she had only known him since the Finals had started? Why would someone who she had just met be so prevalent in her recovered long-term memories? His presence in them made no sense, "Unless it is merely an alias." She unknowingly murmured aloud. She cringed as further memories struck among the distinct clang of a glass.

"I see you are awake," a calmly cool and raspy voice soon followed the previous discord provided by the clanging glass. She stood stiffly as slow, calculated steps drew her auditory attention to…Namu, only she was certain that he was actually Marik… as her memories further returned, she now was aware that the man behind her…was her father. "Sleep well, my dear _Arlohme_?" A mocking smirk played on his lips as chuckled darkly.

She stood, body shaking furiously as memories continued to flash through her mind like a series of whirling filmstrips. "Not Arlohme…" she whispered steadily, although anger clearly clawed at her tone without mercy. "Not Arlomhe." she whispered once more, turning to face him. "You are fully aware that Arlohme is no more than an alias, one that was previously _mine_ to utilize or not." She glared at Marik in what was easily discerned as disgust. "Seeing as you forced me to take my alias when you hid my own memories from me; the only phrase I can think of to describe you is doubtfully arrogant, because the name 'Mheralo' sounds rather familiar to me. Your arrogance is merely hiding the implication that you seem rather uncertain of what I remember and what I do not."

The smirk subsided slightly as Marik walked back over to the counter, sliding the facedown card into his grasp. He then took slow long strides toward her, taking note that her eyes were almost narrowed into slits. He could clearly see she did not trust him… there always was a first time for everything, but his goal of staying hidden and furthering his deception was more important at this point. Marik's smirk returned as held the card in two of his fingers, the details of which were visible only to him. "I believe this is your card." He said mockingly "I must have not returned it to you after our last duel, Mheralo. It seems such a shame that you did not recognize it when it was briefly in your possession before the finals began."

"What do you mean?" Mhera snapped. She was quickly tiring of his mind games.

Marik chuckled dryly as he revealed the card to her. "It was the card that I dropped; the one you picked up and returned to me after I had entered the stadium… without even a flicker of knowledge that it was your card; that it was _your_ **Possession of Destiny**."

"You were testing to see if your plan worked…" Mhera felt her voice trail off, but failed to notice the slight pallor sweep across her face.

"And it did." The smirk returned. "I never do things spontaneously, nor do I allow the measures I implement be granted a chance at failure so early; you should be aware of that by now."

"Have you so little confidence in me to think that I would EVEN CONSIDER revealing you? I may _despise_ your actions; even if I did reveal your identity, you and I both know that would not stop you; it would only be a minor setback." Mhera's words were laced with an almost justified fury, but even with that, the change of tone with her next phrase revealed how truly frightened she was about this whole ordeal. "How can you think me capable of compromising any of my loyalties… especially the one that I cannot compromise, no matter how hard I might try to do so?" She turned away, fists so coiled that her knuckles would surely go white in less than three minutes. Voice almost shaking with disgust-laden horror, she continued. "How is it that you can betray that loyalty so easily…betraying those who have given you so much, without even a flicker of remorse?"

"What of your other loyalty to me? How can you say you cannot break any loyalties when you so easily broke that one?" Marik softly quipped, suavely avoiding the question.

"That was not a matter of loyalty." Mhera snapped, eyes narrowing as she looked over her shoulder. "That was by contract and proposition."

"A contract and proposition by which you chose to abide, declining the amnesty I offered you." He stated smugly as he crossed his arms, smirking slightly. "Tell me, what does that say about you?" He stepped around her calmly, cocking his head to the side as he spoke. "Does it say you once followed blindly; that you failed to ignore the simple indications that something had gone a tad awry?" Marik halted his movement, as was his habit when presenting his final, often correct, suggestion. "Or…" He watched Mhera tense, his smirk growing wider. "Was it a lack of consideration on your part that led to it?"

"How does that concern you?" Mhera spat vehemently. "My loyalties, and the consequences, are mine and not yours. I doubt all of your loyalties have been kept."

"It is _your_ loyalties, dear one, that have been brought into question, not mine." Marik quipped.

"How can you still address me like that after what you've done?" Mhera whispered with controlled fury.

"I hold no remorse; I merely did what was necessary to ensure your compliance." Marik's tone was emotionless, his eyes cold and distant.

"Is that true…is that true about the-about the proposition as well?" Mhera turned swiftly on her heel as fury began to build. "Was that merely _necessary_?" She accented her last word hotly, fighting back tears as the memories of the anchor, ring and card not played returned. She paced towards her father far too calmly, stopping inches away. Her voice shook with fury, fear, and sorrow. "Was chaining me to that doomed anchor _necessary_? Was taking my best friend from me _necessary_? Was that last act of pity _necessary_?" Mhera struck him with her fists repeatedly, each strike growing stronger than the last, making contact with Marik's chest after which she buckled onto her knees, no less than a softly sobbing heap. Her eyes were focused on the carpet as she breathed heavily.

He watched; watched as she gained and lost courage all within the span of a minute. He could have, _should have_, reacted. For some bizarre reason, he had chosen not to. He wasn't surprised; confrontation was only natural in this scenario. He expected her sorrow, her anger, her grief. However he had not expected her emotional reactions to switch so quickly, as if she regretted letting that emotion out as she had. It surprised him. She had every right to hold those emotions, as well as express them in a more aggressive manner. He shook his head in disgusted pity. "Get up." He stated tersely through clenched teeth, resisting the last minute instinct to retaliate.

Mhera gazed at the carpeted ground on which she was almost hopelessly slumped upon, blinking furiously in an attempt to push away the hot tears that clouded her vision. Why had he not retaliated? Why had he not lashed back in pride-driven fury? She was utterly at a loss for why he had simply allowed her to lash out as she had.

She inhaled sharply when Marik repeated his words irately. "I said get up, Mheralo." he almost hissed, and Mhera was sure his narrowed gaze was burning into where she still slumped.

Breathing an unsteady sigh, Mhera shakily rose to her feet, lips quivering; fingers twitching, as her teary gaze met two merciless, lavender pools. "What do you want from me?" Her voice was shaking uncontrollably under the weight of Marik's cold glare.

"What gives you any implication that I wanted something from you?" Marik never lessened his gaze as he continued. "If I desired something of you, it would have been the first thing I introduced into our conversation." He smirked, giving thought to an idea that presented itself. "However, given the fact that you have regained your memories... There _is_ something that I want from you." He gestured over to the small mahogany table by one of the room's small circular windows. Mhera needed no second bidding as she took a seat grudgingly. He then took the seat across from her.

"What do you want?" Mhera asked calmly.

"What I want is simple enough, Mheralo." He rested his elbows on the table. "I require my true identity be concealed."

"Then you have nothing to concern yourself with; as I have said prior, I would never reveal your identity."

"It matters not; I have never been one to let things go to chance… especially when all the elements are in my control to some degree."

"What are you implying?" Mhera's eyes narrowed.

"You are only known under an alias, as am I… If you reveal me consciously or otherwise, your own alias is in jeopardy."

"What do you mean?"

"If and when you reveal me, you will be revealed yourself." Marik smirked smugly.

"I don't follow." Mhera furrowed her brows.

"Look in the mirror Mheralo; is the answer so evasive when you put that into perspective?" Marik cocked his head to the right, a falsely pensive expression on his face. Mhera's eyes went wide as realization struck. Marik only wore the almost permanent smirk that had been on his face from the start, rising from his seat. "Now you follow." He turned on his heel silently before adding, "The similarities are as noticeable as the differences; are they not?"

Mhera stood swiftly, striding past Marik as she made way for the door. "The differences seem to far outnumber the similarities at this point."

"Is that really what you think?" Marik asked, face expressionless as he heard Mhera's footsteps cease at his query.

"Yes." She stated, turning smoothly on her heel to face him, posture straight and firm as a board. She was silent after that, taking once more to looking at the carpet.

"You have something else that you wish to bring into that last statement of yours," Marik stated bluntly as he treaded lightly toward her. He stopped, observing her curiously; he took a deep breath as he cupped her face in his hands, tilting it up with a gentleness that stood in stark contrast to any of his previous actions. "Bring it out for me to see." Voice echoing the same long gone mannerisms, he hesitated. "Reveal to me my own madness; surely you have the most reason to call me a madman." He had discarded the gentle tone in favor of one spiked with the unmistakable slight insanity of eight years prior, stepping back, still facing her; attempting to create distance between them.

Mhera was taken aback at the soft gentleness she was facing from him. The sensation of his hands under her chin was not one of demand or obedience; when thinking back to those previous situations where changing her line of focus was a necessity for him, the gesture had been swift, almost merciless…and usually done with one hand's fingers, rather than the two palms he was using now. The sensation was one she had experienced many times before, when under her father's careful tutelage. Not that he ever put his hands under her chin, but it gave off the same sensation. His self-description of madman now contested his actions. A madman would have nothing to do with any gentle gesture whatsoever. When he started pacing back, she followed, keeping his hands under her chin. She felt his hands recede when he stopped. "You are mistaken, possibly misled, but not a madman." She whispered. "A madman would never have put effort into a foolish girl who has a habit of getting in over her head. A madman would have never made offers." Mhera shook slightly. "A madman would never care for the safety of a minimally influential human pawn of his scheme, even if that human pawn were to produce some unexpected issues."

"Foolish girl, you were never a pawn… you merely presented an inexcusable liability." Marik smirked, which faded with his next sentence. "If I really cared for you as much as you claim…none of what I have done would have been necessary…I should have protected you from my cruelties if your claim rang true. Instead, I led you into my despair." Marik's eyes narrowed. "And I would never need to have been so manipulative regarding the coercion into keeping my identity secret by threatening to unravel yours." He stepped towards her, closing his eyes; he inclined his head toward the small shelf near the couch on which she had awoken on. "However, I am not one to leave you completely defenseless. Your Duel Disk and second deck are over there. I suggest you take them before you leave." He stated tersely. Mhera swiftly obliged, retrieving the aforementioned items.

Pocketing the spare deck, Mhera slid the disk onto her arm and had just ensured a snug fit when the intercom blared, informing those on board of the duelist selection for the second match. She felt an inexplicable knot form in the pit of her stomach as Marik suavely slipped back into the pretense of his pseudonym with that almost genuine smile, using its mannerisms with his next sentence.

"You best be going; everyone who was concerned when you passed out will no doubt be relieved to see you up on your feet."

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**DH: **Finally, I'm done with this shot…and after consideration will definitely be using this idea. Please Review.


	37. Sanctuary By Name

**DH AN: **Back with another Oneshot. Read Susan Kay's _Phantom _last year, and I was inspired by a few of the quotes… sadly I forgot to note exactly which quote it was when the plunny initially struck. So I'm pretty sure this one is it. Enjoy** Sanctuary By Name.**

**AN 2: **Timeline: Three Years after **Veracity**

**POV: **Marik First-Person**  
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**#37: Marik & Mhera

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"I found that I did not begrudge the boy in the silent protection of my name."

– Giovanni, from Susan Kay's _Phantom_

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**Sanctuary By Name**

She silently stepped into where I had led her, the chin of her hooded face making contact with her chest. Stopping beside the only chair in the room and revealing her visage, she allowed her gaze to meet mine, eyes bearing one simple message.

Her message was clear; that I did not have to protect her. The fact that her stance was one laden with nonverbal cues merely added to the effective expression of this issue.

Part of me was very inclined to agree that she did not need my protection. Yet I felt a sense of insatiable obligation, as I was the misguided fool who thrust her into this. I gave no option of escape. I had already learned five years ago that Arlomhe Sharti would refuse them if they were presented her.

I briskly stepped past her, placing my hand on her shoulder as I paced to her left; my voice soft as it provided the only words it could.

"I have to protect you." I wouldn't allow myself to be ignorant as I had three years prior. It was something I would never forgive myself for.

"No. You don't." I halted as her voice shattered whatever barrier my prior statement attempted to build. "Not when I defend you, Sir." Her voice was hushed with slight shame.

I took two steps back to face her as my eyes instinctively narrowed slightly and my voice gained its natural icy timbre. Rather than take her to my office, I had taken her through the atrium to the adjoining chamber; the entrance of which was concealed by a Wall-Switch. As it was…not as private as I would like, and seeing I had a reputation to uphold should an uninvited listener by chance be within earshot; my tone could show no mercy. "What was so inexcusable that you felt the need to defend me, Sharti?" I asked hotly, inwardly dreading the answer.

"Noinreil…h-he insulted you, sir." She shook violently as I gently pushed her into the chair. "He made the mistake of saying it in front of me." Her voice was a whisper as she turned her gaze on the tiles at her feet.

"What did he say?" I asked, knowing that it was something that had upset her greatly; the impressive bruise that was forming on Nashin's left cheek was enough of a testament to that.

She did not answer me.

I did not wish to frighten her, but I felt my patience steadily waning. Without warning, I swiftly tilted the girl's chin with two of my fingers so that her eyes met mine. Standing at the beckon of my hand, she stepped to her right, after which she paced back, pallor ruthlessly sweeping across her face as I paced in synch with her; keeping the distance between us to a minimum. With my other hand, I then gripped the loose sleeve of her cloak, halting her; somewhat annoyed at her attempts to avoid me. "What did he say, Mheralo?" I hissed every word save for her name, noting that my voice shook slightly with worry.

"He…he called you heartless, and…said that you were only capable of destruction; that you were incapable of mercy, or anything benign." Her voice and body trembled with her words; face showing she was ashamed of her temporary lack of self-control. I saw that she had forgotten what I requested her to do upon her return to me from her horrifying two day ordeal within the deepest level of my corridors three years prior. I shook as those memories stalked mercilessly through my mind. "It's a lie." She finished softly, oblivious to my slight tremors.

"Three years ago, I asked you to do something." I stated firmly, pushing the memories into the depths of my mind, where they would best remain amidst other unwanted occurrences of my past. "Do you remember what it was?" I asked in the same manner, releasing my grip on her sleeve, yet keeping her chin tilted upward, her eyes still fixed upon me. "I asked that while within these corridors, to push all that ties you to me to the recesses of your mind; save for the few circumstances of which I made you aware." I turned my face away from her, my line of sight meeting the wall to my right. "You know that this was not one of those circumstances, Dear One." I exhaled softly.

"I know sir… but even when one pushes something to the back of their mind…it still remains." I did nothing to inhibit her attempt to lower her chin, after which I allowed my hand to drop to my side. She had answered my question, and at this point I could ask for nothing more. Mheralo's gaze fixed itself firmly on the tiles at her feet. It was a nervous habit of hers that I had grown accustomed to; something she did only around me, only when she was unsure of whether to speak or wait for me to.

"The R.H. should mean nothing to you." I whispered, pacing to her left. The statement hung in the air as I pondered her reaction to what I would say next. "You should know he is nothing without me." I could see I left her quite perplexed. "Very few know me as you do." I inhaled softly. "As such; The R.H. is all they see. In that perspective, Nashin's statement is fair." I circled her once, choosing not to face her upon its completion.

"The R.H. …he may not mean anything to me…but the man behind him does." Her next phrase was a whisper. "He always will, any aliases aside." Her voice bounced hesitantly off the wall. I took one step away from her, somewhat caught unawares by the remark. Sparing her a glance, I saw the eyes almost identical to my own gaze upon me; showing the conviction her voice could not; that her statement was sincere beyond any doubt I possessed. I had always known her statement to be accurate, but through actions and inactions rather than a verbal locution. It revealed to me that it was not The R.H. she defended; rather she was protecting…me. It was something I could not quite wrap my mind around.

"Why should I mean enough to you…that you feel the need to defend me?" I was visibly shaking. "Why allow your ties to me to resurface far too swiftly, when I permit my own to remain buried far too deeply?" I turned to face her, the quietly livid tone of my words ringing in my mind. The long-avoided Siren-Song of my contained emotions returned to haunt me. "Why?" I almost choked, fighting back self-directed fury.

I felt pallor sweep across my own face as Mheralo's timid voice seeped into my ears once more. "Concealing your emotions has been ingrained into you by something I needn't know…that is why you feel the need to hide those ties…they are the outlet for those emotions that seem not to have a place in The R.H. ." I watched as she stepped towards me, feeling her fingers grasp my hood. How accurate her statement was; she revealed her visage at the beginning of our encounter behind the wall; however I still kept my own face, and in turn my emotions, concealed. I nodded, permitting her to lower my hood. Her eyebrows rose upon seeing my ashen face. Her gaze then sought the floor for the third time that evening. After I did not speak, she continued, "I can only stand aside and let comments like those remain ignored for so long…surely you understand?" Her final statement was laced with hesitance; something that I was never quite comfortable with.

Mheralo is…quite easy to read; her face and body language providing more than a perusal of her mind ever would. Apparently she reads me with the same amount of ease at times; though she uses her discretion when doing so. I'm certain that being correct about things like these will always be a somewhat sobering experience for her. She was frightened by the pallor that had mercilessly conquered my face; for it indicated that she had stricken a chord somewhere within me, usually that was not met with the best results.

I concealed my face within my hood. "You best be going, Sharti." Her eyes met mine doubtfully. "I cannot find fault with your actions at this time."

"But sir-I-I slapped Noinreil on the cheek so hard that he no doubt has a bruise pooling; all because of some ignorant remark." Her eyebrows furrowed minutely. "I let my discipline slip from my fingers; something that should never have happened."

"It wasn't ignorant from your perspective; in your mind, he deserved it." I murmured softly. "I'm simply grateful that you were the one who quite literally may have slapped some sense into him; perhaps now he won't throw statements that are as careless as that one every chance he gets." I calmly pressed a Wall-Switch behind me, a smirk gracing my face as I watched her brows rise slowly in time with the sliding wall. "Why is your reaction when I reveal a new Switch always the same, Dear One?" I chuckled somewhat darkly. "I am not known as The Wall-Switch Lover without reason."

"The Wall-Switch Lover… is he nothing without you as well?" Mheralo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I cannot say." I stated, backing into the newly revealed corridor. "Now, come." I extended my hand to her. I sighed softly as I felt her hand fit snugly into mine. I led her into the corridor and up a set of seven steps. I pressed a tile in upon reaching the small staircase's zenith. The wall before me slid aside to reveal the hallway that held the room in which the proposition was brought to its final outcome with a single signature five years prior. I ushered Mheralo into the hallway, choosing not to follow her. "Now I must leave you in the upper corridors, as I have matters to attend to that do not require your presence." I took two steps back into the way I had just come, still facing her.

"I know why you seem so obliged to protect me within the lower corridors." Her soft voice merited a raise of my eyebrow as she turned to face me. "It's because of what happened three years ago, isn't it?"

"You are somewhat accurate." I stated softly, glancing toward my left, my line of sight meeting a door. Mheralo may not have possessed a complete recollection of her time in that subterranean chamber, but I was fearful of what she did remember about the ordeal three years prior. Memories came rushing back, and I did nothing to fight them. When I saw her restrained, on the floor, so weak that the wall behind her was the only support she had- it tore me apart, never mind the fact that I wished to tear apart Nashin just as badly. When I could not reach her to comfort her or do anything of that sort, I felt defeated.

I still cannot recall whether I was thankful or abhorred when I learned that she was unconscious through most, if not all, of the time she was in that arcane bondage. I tensed as Nashin's taunting sneer flashed before my eyes; implying that there was a bit of a condition to freeing my daughter that I could not meet. I shook with a quietly controlled fury as I realized that getting out of those memories once more seemed impossible. If only I hadn't insisted on aliases… it would have been easier to simply claim her -no that phrase was far too inaccurate, as it could incorrectly imply things that I would never allow- rather, provide her with the simple protection offered by my name, cemented by the connection which was hers by birth.

As much as that reasoning now appealed to me, I recalled the reason why she had been requested to abandon those same ties while she was within my corridors. I found it easier to push them aside from the start. It was supposed to offer her protection from harm because of her ties to me. In the end the effort proved futile; she was not protected; though it was not an attempt to get something from me. My inattentiveness was, perhaps, the true reason for my recent over-protectiveness, as some would see it. I am never one to make the same mistake twice if I can help it. I sighed softly.

"Are you…?" Mheralo's voice bounced off the wall once more. The lack of a complete inquiry bothered me; she knew something was wrong, but she was uncertain of what it was, watching her words as a result. I clenched my right fist minutely; not only should she never fear getting lost within my corridors again, she should never need constantly watch her words.

"I am well." Stepping out of the corridor, I pressed the tile on my left; refusing to move forward until I heard the wall finish its response. "You needn't worry about me." I placed my hands on her shoulders. "It is I who should worry about you."

"I know." She stated softly, her body minutely shaking underneath my fingers. "That does nothing to make my worry nonexistent." Her shaking ceased as I gently stroked her cheek with the back of my right hand.

"Worry will always exist." I stated. "How you deal with the worry that is yours to cope with is your responsibility."

She nodded slowly, taking two slow steps back towards the opposite wall. She sighed, slightly forcing a small smile. "Don't you have somewhere to be, sir?"

"Yes, you are correct." I turned away from her to press the Wall-Switch. Another thought crossed my mind. Very few, if any, would follow me silently if I were to somewhat forcibly take them out of a situation; I was somewhat shocked at Mheralo's compliance, as she was rightly incensed. As soon as I placed my hands on her shoulder, she became meek, and docile; allowing me to silently ponder the occurrence until we reached the destination. "One final thing before I leave you, Dear One." I paused, sparing a glance toward her.

"Yes sir?" Her tone was unsurprisingly respectful as she slightly tilted her head to the right.

"Why were you so cooperative when I took you out of that situation?" I pursed my lips as I continued, quite perplexed. "Of all the times not to put your feet down and resist…why were you so willing to be led once more into an unknown occurrence? Why do you continually trust The R.H., The Wall-Switch Lover, and your father as one entity, when they are all too clearly not?"

"The person behind all of them is worth my trust." She sighed softly with a small smile. "All three of those identities are yours; they make you who you are. You cannot deny that." Her face became expressionless. "That is why." She hesitated before adding, "Aside from that, I did not wish to draw any more attention than I already had; you know making scenes has a tendency to do that."

I nodded, pressing the tile into the wall, registering the wall slide aside. "Thank you for answering…it has provided insight into what I might not have figured out alone."

"Is there anything else you need from me sir?"

"That will be all, Sharti." Before pressing the tile again, I waited until I heard Mheralo enter her room and shut her door. I decided that it would be in my best interests to leave my remaining tasks for another day, selecting instead to content myself with reading a book from the room that held a tapestry and the memory of a proposition's fulfillment.

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**DH: **It feels good to write like this again. Hope you enjoyed it too. Please Review.


	38. Madness' Echoes

**DH ****AN:**Although I think the prompt **casually**** smashed**** to**** pieces,**from the Live Journal community **31**** Days,**fits really well for several reasons, it wasn't the source of the Plunny. The inspiration for this was a passage in Jennifer Linforth's final installment in her Madrigals Trilogy, _Rondeau_ . As I neither remember the small bit of inspiration verbatim, nor have the piece in question in my possession at this time, the above prompt will serve just as well.

**Timeline:** Six Months after The Prologue in **Powers ****Revealed,**and right after the events of a flashback in Season Three; as details regarding location are vague in said flashback, I've taken a bit of liberty and placed certain details where needed.

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**#38:The R.H. & Arlomhe Sharti (Marik & Mhera)**

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**Madness' Echoes **

It took all of Arlomhe Sharti's discipline to prevent herself from dropping the note in her hand out of horror as she mutely surveyed the sight that met her when she entered his office. Papers were strewn everywhere, as if it had merely taken one sweep from each arm to render the desk clear of them. She quickly spared a glance to the right, silently wincing as she saw the fragments of a black coffee mug on the floor, smashed beyond recognition save for the shard that had the handle still intact. She silently attempted to piece together a scenario for what could have led to this uncharacteristic disarray. At the end, she only was left with one perceivable idea: The R.H. was _not_ pleased.

She turned on her heel to leave when she heard him rise from the chair that was facing away from her upon entrance. "Don't take another step, Sharti." His authoritative voice echoed softly throughout the room. She spun slowly to face him as he stepped towards her; she took note that his hood was lowered and his face bore no expression. "That note in your hand states that I desire to meet with you, does it not?" Expressing what his face refused to, his words were harsh, short and crisp; accenting his personal, unseen displeasure at his current circumstances.

Arlomhe swallowed slowly as she attempted to still the fear clawing at her mind and affecting her stomach; something was very wrong. The words he used and the tone of his inquiry far too quickly brought pallor to her face. "Y-yes, i-it does. Now doesn't seem to-to be a good t-time." She shook so hard that it affected her words.

"You rarely stutter in my presence." The R.H. stated bluntly, voice softening only slightly with his next statement. "You also temporarily forget that you are not the one who decides these matters." His voice was far too controlled, far too calm.

"M-my apol-" She was shaking along with her voice once more, unmasked trepidation seeping through her words. "M-my-My apologies, S-sir."

"Quit stammering, you foolishly incompetent child!" The R.H. hissed through clenched teeth. Arlomhe's brows shot up out of surprise and it took what was left of her discipline to conceal the anguish threatening to write itself on her face.

Inhaling deeply to grant herself a moment to regain her inner composure, her words were soft and did nothing to betray her forced calmness. "Something is wrong and has upset you greatly." The statement passed her lips almost emotionlessly. She was surprised and grateful that her bout of stammering was over for the moment. "I needn't know what it is."

"You want to." The R.H. stated through clenched teeth as he swiftly closed the gap between them. He grabbed her, forcing her to face the door as he none-too-gently pressed her back against the cloth of the front of his cloak, his right arm holding her in place with only his wrist and hand making contact with her. She felt the controlled, slow rise and fall of his chest as she attempted to combat the fear that only increased with each calm cycle. "You know a part of you that wants that knowledge." He stated after two minutes.

"I don't want to know what, rather…I-I want to know why."

Arlomhe tensed as she felt the cycle shift with the addition of his soft, staccato laughter. "You wish to know why?" He repeated the last portion of her statement incredulously after five repetitions of this new cycle. "Why what, Sharti?"

"I've never… I've never seen your office in such a state of disarray." She murmured calmly.

She did not even have to add the logical single-word inquiry to the end of her statement. He exhaled softly, panning from right to left with his non-dominant, left hand. "To understand this 'why', you would first need to understand this 'what.'" His tone once more offered some form of self-directed distaste, this time it almost went unperceived.

"I don't want to know the what! I-I merely want to understand!" Arlomhe was unable to hide fear proven by her frantic exclamation and shaking voice. The years of knowing better than to show fear had ended; the emotion that never rightly expressed itself for almost eight years was now mercilessly brought forth by this master manipulator.

The R.H. withdrew his right arm from its restraining position far too swiftly to be granting her release. This was confirmed when she felt slight pressure on her midsection from his left arm; he was indeed preventing a potential escape. She stayed still, attempting to assuage fear's swift seizure of control over her demeanor as an uneasily familiar golden object cut into her line of vision. "Before you could even begin understanding this 'what' and this 'why', you would first need to fully understand, among other things, my methods." The R.H. continued with a hardened, forcibly explicatory tone. Arlomhe inwardly shuddered as she noted his refusal to acknowledge the object now gripped loosely in his right hand. "Do not attempt to understand them, foolish girl. You could very well go mad seeking to placate me in my own madness." He wrenched her to face him and Arlomhe shuddered as the right wing of the golden object pressed far too gently into her neck. "I'd rather not see that happen to you." Arlomhe had difficulty determining the sincerity of his last statement; his voice was still far too soft, the fury within it far too controlled.

"You truly think yourself mad?" Arlomhe's breath seemed to hitch when The R.H. far too slowly drew the Millennium Rod away from her and placed it back onto the desk.

"I would think you have heard enough rumors to expect it… that you would have been prepared for this." The voice of The R.H. was a chilling whisper. "Or have you forgotten that, over one of these rumors, you once slapped Nashin so hard on the cheek that there was a bruise present for two weeks?"

"That was not a rumor, it was an insult." Arlomhe's soft voice bore conviction that temporarily masked the fear that still lingered within it.

She watched his hands withdraw from their restraining positions. She turned to face the door as a challenging inquiry from The R.H. resounded throughout the room. "Is it an insult if what was said proves true?" From the corner of her eye, she saw The R.H. had stepped back both physically and figuratively. Arlomhe provided no answer. "You think otherwise." He observed with a softer tone, accompanied by an almost unseen rise of his right eyebrow.

"It was a blatant lie!" Her words were crisply defensive as she went rigid with mild ire, glaring daggers at the door.

"Because you see me as you have… you belong to me, Dear One …" Arlomhe stood still as he stepped behind her and shuddered slightly as she felt his fingers briefly brush across her shoulders. His voice became smoothly alluring as he circled her once. "More than once you were easily manipulated into playing right into my hands… How can you be certain that all my presentations to you have been accurate, without any attempted guile?" The R.H. leaned his head towards Arlomhe at his next statement. "Can you be certain that my past demeanors have been anything more than mere facades to keep you under a sense of security that you perhaps now see proven false?" He stopped his circle and stepped away from her.

"I believe that you already know the answer to that, Master." She spoke the last word softly as her posture sagged, fear frantically clawing at the back of her mind in time with the protests of her common sense.

Silence was his only response. The sound of his footsteps, five calm and calculating paces at equal two-second intervals, broke it. Each step was akin to the tolling of a deep bell in Arlomhe's mind. "Turn around and look at me." He spoke, voice growing terse as he gently rotated her by the shoulders. "Gaze once more upon your closest deceiver." When Arlomhe finally raised her eyes to his visage, The R.H. paused with lips pursed in an unreadable expression before continuing further. "Where did you find the audacity to now liken Father to Master…The Master you would never address as such…At your Father's request?"

Arlomhe sighed softly as she found her voice. "The one who is responsible for this," She simply inclined her head to the shattered coffee mug, panning her eyes over the numerous documents scattered and out of place on the floor. "Has no other title." She inhaled, preparing for the reaction to what she would say next. "He accepts no failure and lacks the discipline to deal with that failure with the necessary patience required." She felt his fingers press hard into her shoulders, and despite the dull throbbing pain, she continued. "As 'Master', he is more meticulous than usual and when something displeases him, it doesn't come across that he knows how to handle it in a dignified manner. The mere idea of being in the same room with him after those instances frightens most." Knowing that she truly was out of line with her past two remarks, Arlomhe silently resolved not to speak further.

"But it does not frighten you?" The R.H. inquired as he slowly removed his hands from her shoulders and gripped her arms instead. She gave him no verbal answer, but her quickly paling face revealed enough to him. He relinquished his grip on her without another word.

Arlomhe took two steps backward, only to step on a piece of scattered paper, and feel her heart leaping into her throat as she slid backward and downward. A hand with piano thin fingers deftly grabbed her right arm, and she felt the other hand suspend her above the floor.

"I will not see you fall to anyone when you are capable of standing against them." His breathing once more took on a slow deliberate cycle as he studied her further. "I know that you are more than capable of standing up to me." His brow knotted slightly. "You seem to doubt yourself on this."

"What makes you certain of that?" Arlomhe asked as she searched his eyes for an answer, somewhat fearfully unsurprised when she found nothing.

"You are watching your words...more than usual." Aside from his slightly narrowed eyes, his face was expressionless as he held her above the floor. "Through that, you show me your fear." The R.H.'s eyes narrowed further in slight distaste as he pulled Arlomhe onto her feet and thrust her into the central seat of the three seats near the door. Cupping the girl's chin in one hand, he spoke with a gently chilling tone, the controlled fury still present in his voice. "You know better than to show fear in front of me." Drawing his hand away, The R.H. turned swiftly on his heel. "It is nothing more than a form of weakness that I will not see you show."

Numb, Arlomhe stood slowly and, bending down, started to gather stray papers into her hands with intent to place them into manageable stacks.

"Leave them as they are." She froze as The R.H.'s calm voice halted her actions. "You will not resolve what was not your own doing, not this time." He turned back to face her as she stood. "When you understand why I ask this of you, you will begin the process of comprehending the 'what' of this situation." He exhaled softly through his nose, nudging the small stack of papers into their former disarray with the tip of his right boot. "With this, you begin to understand me."

"Understand you?" Arlomhe questioned softly. "Sir…" Her eyes searched his face once more. "I understand all that I need to."

"No. You do not understand… not what you must in order to know why my mind is in the state that is mirrored simply by the state of my office." The R.H. looked towards the bookshelf on his left. "And I cannot give it to you… it would be far too much for you to bear."

"I do not wish to know." Arlomhe shook, her voice was faint as she searched his face once more, seeing the pensive expression come to it far too easily. "I've never seen you like this… it…it terrifies me."

"You're terrified of me?" The R.H. stepped toward her once more, stopping at arm's length. "This is the last thing I would expect you to say… and yet I am surprised that you did not admit this sooner." Despite their small height difference, he loomed over her. "You best tell me the truth." He watched her wrestle an answer to his question. "You should be terrified," he began, voice icily soft. "for your face tells me more than your words ever will. You are frightened by your own uncertainty." He paused briefly. "I manifest that uncertainty to you." Arlomhe blanched, slamming back into the chair. Frightened, she turned away as he sighed softly, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Your state of mind frightens me." Arlomhe's voice was a hushed whisper when she finally brought herself to speak. "Not you."

"So you think I am mad?" His words were dangerously soft and his inquiry hung in the air.

"That's neither what I said nor is it something I would dare imply." Arlomhe's eyes narrowed slightly as mild fury began to restore color to her face. "Do not put words in my mouth that I hope I will never need."

"What if I am mad and you merely refuse to acknowledge it?" The R.H. quipped, tone softly terse.

"Acknowledging something that is not true… It would be a betrayal." She stood abruptly. "That is something _I_ will not allow." She stepped forward purposefully, confidence bringing her tone to a crescendo, the combination of which forced The R.H. to step back for the first time in this conversation. "That is why that bruise on Noinreil's face was so noticeable. He wasn't just insulting you, he was insulting _this_." She accented the last word hotly as she gestured to the interior of the office. "He was insulting your methods, not just your demeanor." She exhaled through her nose, speaking soon after with a softer tone. "I know all I need to about your methods and that is that they _work_." She was shaking slightly. "To a point, to understand you _is_ to understand this," She gestured once again to the shattered coffee mug. "But to understand this is _not_ to understand you." Her gaze immediately fixed on the tiles at her feet. "Anyone could have met this result if the factors were right."

"What do you mean, Dear One?" Her head snapped up to watch The R.H. as he stepped around her, dropping lightly into the chair on her right. He inclined his head to the chair she previously occupied. Arlomhe stepped backward and seated herself in the indicated chair. He looked forward, choosing not to acknowledge her actions. "What do you mean?" He repeated somewhat listlessly. "Are you saying that anyone could become mad as I am?" His voice was soft, any of the prior fury gone from it; she could have sworn The R.H. savored this moment that he was free from his own fury. She deduced that these moments were far and in between to a certain degree. "I would never choose this."

"I am not saying that all are susceptible to madness, nor am I saying that you have chosen or succumbed to any sort. I mean to point out that anyone could have created this mess without the action having the same meaning." She heaved a loose sigh. "You yourself stated that this disarray serves as a key to understanding your state of mind, a key to understanding why." She gestured to the interior once again. "You are not a madman." She wrung her hands in slight frustration at the implication The R.H. brought forth. "A madman wouldn't quite know how to deal with other people."

"You describe me to a certain degree with that statement; most of my employ has proven to be incompetent when given the simplest of tasks."

Mentally conceding that The R.H's statement was somewhat accurate, Arlomhe pressed on. "A madman wouldn't _care_."

"I don't." His response was immediate.

"You do care." Arlomhe stared him down. "The tapestry proves it. If you didn't-"

"That is _very_ different." Drawing out the twin syllables of the third word of his statement, The R.H. tensed in his chair, tone livid. "You will not bring anything involving _her_ into this conversation." Ice and the briefly concealed fury entered his tone with his next sentence. "Is that understood?"

Arlomhe nodded, ceding control of the conversation to The R.H. with a loose sigh. She stuffed her hands into her lap, glowering at them and her somewhat ire-driven forgetfulness, when a thought occurred to her. "I'm proof that you care… that you aren't mad." She murmured.

The R.H. stood slowly. "You make me care." He stepped around behind her chair, leaning on the back of it. "You do not take advantage of my patience…you give me use for it and something called sympathy." He set his hands on her shoulders. "I should perhaps learn from you…"

"What could you possibly learn from me?" Her brows furrowed.

"I learn to lengthen that usually small amount of patience." He supplied as if it were obvious. "I learn your methods."

"How can you learn my methods when I cannot do the same in regard to yours?"

"Learning and understanding do not mean the same thing." The R.H. reasoned. "I learned why you took the proposition and what led you to it, but unless I piece those fragments in the correct order, those are merely my conjectures. And even if I do piece them correctly, that is after observation. I will never fully understand your reasoning behind those actions almost eight years ago." He paused before speaking once more, closer to her ear. "Upon entering, you saw the literal fragments of this situation and still know nothing of what brought me to my ire, but you tread cautiously in an effort to either appease me or merely prevent my ire from increasing further."

Arlomhe swallowed hard, paling slightly. Had it really been so obvious?

"You are always far too careful around me, and make your intentions more obvious when you try to conceal them." He stepped in front of her, cupping her chin in his palms once more. "When, Dear Arlomhe, will you realize that you have no need to act so… civil and composed when you are here?" The soft staccato laughter resounded throughout the room once more. "It amuses me when you gain a spine." Delicately running a finger down her left cheek, he continued. "You only allow your ire to rise when you can control it. Because of that and your control over all of your emotions, you are not shying away from me now."

"I trust you. It has nothing to do with emotional control, but everything to do with trust." Arlomhe's voice was firm as she tentatively reached to curiously trace one of the dark markings under The R.H.'s eyes with a gentle touch. She inhaled slowly as she felt that the marking was smooth and ingrained into the skin. "They're tatt-!" The R.H. placed a gentle finger over her lips to prevent the word from escaping, after which he drew his hand away slowly.

The R.H. encased her one hand in his two, drawing it away from his face. "You thought it was simply an application of kohl." He surmised. Arlomhe nodded in confirmation, temporarily dumbstruck. "How innocent you still are…" He drawled as he gently pressed Arlomhe's hand into her lap, his voice gaining a slight edge of insanity as he continued. "I could reveal to you things of which you would know nothing unless I told you of their significance." He took two steps back from her and turned away from the slight insanity, as he braced himself on the desk briefly. He then placed his hands behind his back, lacing his fingers together, dipping his chin to his chest. "But that would require knowledge I'd rather you not have."

"I said to you before that I do not wish to know." Arlomhe exhaled resolutely. "I know you will tell me only if and when you are ready."

The R.H.'s head snapped up and he quickly spun on his heel to face her. "How simultaneously wise and foolish you are."His tone softened with his next phrase. "You should know _your_ curiosity only got you into trouble once. What would another instance of that bring? Perhaps nothing too severe would meet you. Have you forgotten how you were simply allowed to return to the upper corridors after your first time here?" With a small sigh, Arlomhe indicated that she still remembered the instance of which The R.H. spoke. "I could have taken you as my Huntress then and there."

Arlomhe shuddered as she watched him place his palms on the desk behind him. "However, I chose to wait." He paused with a soft sigh. "You know that if it had been in my power, I would have waited longer." Leaving his left foot planted on the stone tiles, he crossed his right leg over his left.

Arlomhe was silent, permitting The R.H. to continue. "You always exhibit this phenomenal awareness when you walk on very thin ice with my emotions." He watched Arlomhe pale slightly. "And it always shows on your face." He murmured almost inaudibly. "You wonder how I know this." His words were crisp, almost questioning as the pointer and middle fingers of his right hand walked across the glass top of the desk as he stared intently at her. "It returns once more to your utterly obvious and pathetic attempts to conceal your emotions." He paused before continuing, closing his eyes with a soft sigh, opening them once more, catching her in his gaze. "Somehow you constantly manage to meet the demands that are continually placed upon you with success as your usual reward." He stopped, seeing an expression on her face that had nothing to do with his current train of thought. "If you have a question of me, you are free to ask."

"How long…how long would you have waited?" Arlomhe inquired softly.

"I know you realize that I cannot give you that answer with any degree of certainty." The R.H stated calmly. "The circumstances would have needed to be extremely right." He sighed loosely as he fixed his gaze upon her once more. "You know that as well."

"What circumstances were in your favor eight years ago?" Arlomhe shook as she spoke. "What was it about those circumstances that you couldn't ignore?" She stood, going rigid once more as she inhaled sharply, fighting back tears.

The R.H. was silent. He calmly observed her somewhat ire-stricken, almost tortured expression while ensuring his own countenance was expressionless. He stood, taking two almost silent steps toward her. "If there is something more you wish to say, then speak Sharti." His voice had once more become terse and fury lingered in undertone. He was disgusted at her hesitance, at her doubt; deep down, he was most disgusted with her fear presenting so blatantly in her every action during this encounter; the hesitance in her question serving as proof. Even when the girl stood up to him, there was still that sense of fear that lingered about her.

"How can you think me an incompetent child…when you fail to see that …as Master…" Her breath hitched when that word left her lips, as if it were painful. "That what you took away from me cannot be replaced?" Arlomhe swiftly shrugged out of her sleeved cloak and let it fall loosely from her frame. After stepping backward out of it, she hung the fabric from two of her fingers at his eye level. "Was this worth my childhood?" Her question hung in the air and she did not press for an answer.

Whatever color remained in Arlomhe's visage quickly left her as she saw The R.H. step back as if he were slapped. He inhaled deeply once before he stepped forward, forcing Arlomhe to step backward until her back met the wall. Piano thin fingers of one hand carefully drew the cloak from Arlomhe's possession while the other hand rested on her face. The R.H. pursed his lips as he rubbed the cool cloth along his fingers. "Perhaps it wasn't." He murmured lightly as he tossed the cloak somewhat carelessly onto the back of a chair behind him after which both arms dropped to his side. "However, the fault does not lie entirely with me, Dear One, for you took and have chosen to abide by the proposition for almost eight years now."

"I was given no other choice." Her attempts to fight her own tears were proving useless.

"You had another choice." He hissed as his eyes narrowed and his hands contorted into tight fists. "You simply refused to see and take it."

Arlomhe finally succumbed to her tears. She did not see his expression soften through her closed eyes as The R.H. stroked her cheek with his right thumb once, catching a tear in the process.

He didn't protest as she then soaked his robe with her tears. However, he was not at all prepared for her knees to buckle, forcing him to bear her weight. If it were anyone else, he would have pushed them away without a thought.

Not her.

No matter how much he tried to keep the familial ties between them as far away from his mind when within the lower corridors and the persona that came with it, in some way those ties always managed to resurface. The R.H. fought a wince as his knees hit the floor in order to prevent himself from falling backward while the girl used him as a brace. Each of her sobs pulsated through him as her calm façade finally broke. Her doubt, terror, and fear washed over him without words. It disgusted him that he could do nothing to stop it… that he was the cause.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn't think them anything more than weak.

Not her.

He inched her chin up to where it now rested securely on his left shoulder. He silently wrapped his arms around her and with a gentleness usually reserved only for a certain tapestry, ran his fingers through her soft hair once. He sighed with relief as her sobs ceased. He felt her hands gently grip the loose fabric of his robe and gritted his teeth as he heard her shaky sigh.

"Why show me pity?" She inquired softly, voice almost a whisper.

"It is not pity." The R.H. stated firmly as he stood, a grimace affixed to his face. "You know that it will never be pity." He paused, his tone regaining its characteristic edge as he spoke next. "Pity is nothing more than a facet of weakness."He extended his hand towards her slowly. Inhaling solemnly as Arlomhe took the hand offered her, his expression and tone softened once more. "It is not pity," He repeated as he pulled her back onto her feet for the second time in this encounter. He led her towards the desk, directing her gaze at the reflective glass top. "It is clearly so much more than that, when taken in a different perspective." His voice was soft, perhaps suggesting that the prior statement was meant more for his own ears. "What you call pity is a misclassification. Unlike pity, what I exhibit to you now is something that I cannot ignore regardless of the fervency with which I attempt to."

"And that is?" Arlomhe arched a brow curiously.

"You are mine, Mheralo." The phrase was soft and careful, the name within it sounding foreign simply within the context of this conversation while simultaneously natural to the purpose of what he said next. "I belong to you…as much as you belong to me. Because I have seen you as I have, I know your intricacies. Because I know those intricacies, I am better able to observe details that some would say are mere subtleties." The R.H. flashed a seldom seen genuine smile. Though the expression was small, there was no mistaking it. "Because I observe these small details, I have the task of discerning the right time to reveal my observations to you, and a responsibility not to bring any sense of humiliation on account of them."

"Why did you want to see me?" The girl pressed, changing the subject.

"Do I need to inform you of my reasoning behind summoning you here?" He almost snapped back in reply, the smile quickly vanishing from his face. "Sit." He ordered somewhat sternly, expression impassive as he watched her oblige without protest. His brows rose as the girl then stood and made to remove the cloak from the back of the chair to her right. "Why…why do you wish to reclaim that for which you just recently expressed great resentment?"

"The situation requires it, Sir." She stated somewhat sharply as she shrugged into the garment. "It also traps heat… I always seem to need reminding of that." The softness of her previous statement left with her next phrase. "What matter requires my presence?"

The R.H.'s eyes narrowed. "You also need constant reminding that you are not the one who decides what path a conversation within my office takes."The ice quickly swept to his tone, as he proceeded to the opposite side of the desk, seating himself in the executive chair. He swiftly laced his fingers together and placed his elbows on the desk's glass top. "I suppose I should expect nothing different; you've always been rather predictable…" He drawled, lips pursed when the usual look of shock was absent from her face. "When something nerves you, as everything in this encounter has to some degree, you always wish to attend to the matter which brings you into my office in quick order." The R.H. watched Arlomhe nod minutely in agreement with his statement. He continued. "You wish to avoid the discomfort the divergences bring." He stared down at her. "It is an admirable quality, to be ever mindful that your presence was requested for a reason."He murmured. "However, this presents as another instance of your desire for promptness being a mere masking of your hesitance." He leaned over the desk. "I can assure you that your fears are misplaced. If it were a matter of incompetence on your part, it would have been addressed immediately."

"That still does nothing to answer my question." She pressed.

"You leave for Luxor in one week." He stated.

Arlomhe's brows shot up. Without moving her face, her eyes darted around and quickly took in the disarray with a new sense of awareness. With that one central word, The R.H. had given her the 'why' to the situation, incomplete as it was. "Something happened at Luxor…" Her voice drifted off and her face grew ashen; both factors only served to accent the fear in her voice. "You returned this morning…you-you said you would return here after four days…it's…it's only the second day." She started to minutely fidget.

"I never said where I went." The R.H. responded far too calmly.

"You never- you never return early." Her stammer returned with the first sentence but left with the second, her fidgeting ceasing as well. "Granted Luxor is not terribly far-"

"How is it that you are reading all of this simply from a shattered mug and a few scattered papers?" He snapped.

The interruption of her prior statement allowed for a return of confidence or at least relief from her recent somewhat fear-driven remarks. "Your reaction is giving me reason enough to think my inferences are inching closer and closer to the truth." She watched his hand clench into a tight fist of frustration.

"You test your limits with me, foolish girl." The R.H. hissed, each word laden with mounting ire.

"Twice now you've called me foolish!" The R.H. heard her anguish attempting to conceal itself through anger; he knew mastering that took years and that she had yet to even begin to come close to its successful employment. Or perhaps the only reason he saw the attempt as a failure was because he had mastered the technique so long ago. "Is that what you have always thought… that I am a fool?"

The R.H. inhaled before responding. "In some ways you always have been." He stood, stepping over towards her, bending to speak softly into her ear. "You are a fool to continually trust me without question." He brushed his fingers over her shoulders once more, somewhat satisfied as he felt her shiver with his next statement. "A fool because you carry on without being ever aware of the power I could have over you and a fool because you are never wary of me because of it." His tone shattered whatever calm strength the girl possessed at that moment. "When you recall that power I could exercise over you at a mere whim, it is only because I bring it into your sight." He exhaled loosely. "You are fortunate that I can exhibit such patience towards you despite how you test it so." The R.H. let his fingers slide from her shoulders slowly as he stepped to her right. "Yet these two repeated instances of foolery are nothing in comparison to your greatest failing." His voice was still a whisper, but it resounded throughout the room as his first statement within this encounter had. "It is the failing that brought you to me as my Huntress."

"It wasn't the resolution of the proposition." Arlomhe's words were hollow. She knew that suggestion wasn't what he referred to; it was too obvious.

"You are correct in your statement; it isn't the presence of your signature on that contract. However you incorrectly think that as a failure. Those who do not follow through with an agreement exhibit failure." He strode over to the desk and took his seat and gazed across the desk at her. "You followed through with the terms of our agreement."

"Well, what is my greatest failure?" Once more, the girl's words held no perceivable substance. This bothered the man behind the desk; he had heard some form of conviction behind all of her portions of the conversation until now. The sudden lack of this bothered him, gave him the impression that she saw her words as worthless, further that she saw attempting to speak with him as a task without merit without any perceptible positive outcome. He never wanted her, or her efforts, to seem worthless.

Pushing these more sentimental thoughts aside in favor of answering the inquiry asked of him, The R.H. responded with an unwavering steady tone. "In retrospect, addressing this as 'your greatest failing' was not the wisest way to do so. However, the several instances in which you have placed your own well-being under that of others in the most dangerous of circumstances worry me greatly."

"Would you rather I hadn't?" Arlomhe inquired hotly."I cared for you when you were ill with bronchitis because _you_ asked me to." She sighed. "Why is it that you see it as me ignoring my own wellbeing?" She paused. "If I hadn't slipped into that meeting… who would have?"

"One of those two fools."

"You wouldn't have even considered a proposition for them."

"What gives you that idea?"

"You just spitefully called them fools."

"Does that matter?"

Arlomhe gritted her teeth in frustration. She was tired of and simultaneously baffled by The R.H.'s bluntness. "It may not matter to you, but no one deserves to be at your mercy without their own full consent."

"There seems to be something you have yet to tell me, Sharti." The R.H. threaded his fingers together and placed his elbows back onto the desk. "For eight years I have been under the impression that you just happened to follow Nashin and Yagasawi to the entrance of the atrium." He exhaled loosely. "How you managed to keep me under that impression, I have no idea, but you best tell me the truth." He smirked and watched her squirm under the expression. "It isn't written on your face this time."

"You know that I didn't lie."

"The matter stands that I never inquired about it before, and am more than certain you are capable of understanding that anything regarding that detail was never asked of you simply because it failed to pique my interest until now." His smirk faded, replaced by the pensive expression that always set into his face with far too much ease. "If what you have to tell me differs from what I observed, that admission on your part will better allow me to understand why you took the proposition without complete consideration of the consequences."

"I _did_ consider the consequences, of both my actions and my inactions." Arlomhe stated softly. "Take it for what you will, but I knew…some part of me knew and still knows you wouldn't harm me." She sighed, slowly raising her eyes to meet The R.H.'s gaze, an indication that she would indeed satisfy his request. "It was right after you showed me…" She squirmed somewhat uncomfortably as her eyes repeatedly darted between the Millennium Rod and The R.H.'s gaze.

"Go on." He gestured with his hand for her to continue, easily deducing the event she was referring to.

"I was heading back to my allotted room and heard voices in the hall. I hid behind a wall, lest I intrude upon a conversation that wasn't mine to hear." She stuffed her hands into her lap. "Noinreil was attempting to convince Sheon to sneak in with him. He insisted that I could cover for them." She sighed loosely. "At first, I resolved I wouldn't do anything."

"Clearly that resolve failed." He murmured. "Did they eventually ask you to cover for them?"

"No."

"So you went of your own volition?"

"You don't understand."

"Make me understand."

"Out of the two of them, Noinreil or Sheon, which one do you think would have been the one to make the misstep?"

"There's more than what you are telling me." The R.H. chose not to answer the question directly. "You cared deeply for him even then." The R.H. paused, a small smirk gracing his features. "Am I correct?"

"I know you aren't blind, and I certainly didn't do it for Noinreil."

The R.H. nodded slowly. "So you did this for Yagasawi?"

"You've known the answer to that for years." Arlomhe slowly stood from her seat. "I made my choice right after Sheon stepped out of that kitchen." Shaking her head minutely, the girl sighed and soon after, spoke once more. "To change the subject, what is the reason for my pending departure to Luxor?"

The R.H. wordlessly pulled out an envelope marked with an official letterhead from a desk drawer. "You received this letter six months ago; I kept it safe, at your request. The letter herein details that my sister would be hosting an exhibit in Luxor. She requested you join her before the exhibit moves to its next destination. It leaves Luxor eight days from now."

Arlomhe dropped back into her seat speechless with mouth agape, wanting to avoid connecting the dots that The R.H. laid out for her. Slightly gritting her teeth, Arlomhe's eyes frantically darted around the room once more. _This __can__'__t __simply__ be __the__ result__ of__…__he__'__s __incapable __of__…__of __this __completely __furious __madness__…__over __something __so__…__so__ trivial. _Her eyes stopped moving, gaze fixed on the wall behind The R.H.'s chair.

The R.H. watched the girl in the chair before him, not too keen on watching her eyes dart every which way as she inadvertently began to piece things together once more. He knew that the action was first performed as soon as she walked into the room; after all, she was predictable and observant. It bothered him that her face had gone ashen with fear, that she attempted to avoid making eye contact. However, he believed her refusal to inquire anything of him was what bothered his mind the most. He finally spoke. "Why so silent, Dear One?" He watched her eyes finally still completely as his inquiry simultaneously added tension as easily as it cut through it.

"Is there anything else you need of me?" Arlomhe was squirming uncontrollably, making clear attempts to avoid The R.H.'s gaze.

"If you desire to leave and end our conversation, you know that you merely need to ask."

"Please." The single word was strained and barely audible as she swiftly stood, her posture rigid with self-inflicted trepidation.

The R.H. merely nodded once, noting that the girl rigidly paced to the door. Any prior time, he would have asked if she were attempting to hold something from him, some bit of knowledge that wasn't hers to keep. However in the moment she slipped out the door, he realized that he could not ask her to surrender whatever it was she now held in her conscience. Asking her to do so would be a betrayal, torturous to her already burdened mind. He found himself unwilling to admit to himself that Arlomhe Sharti was one of the few remaining fragments of his fragile sanity. Pacing to the pile of fragments of his black porcelain mug, The R.H. picked up the piece possessing the handle and held it gently between his fingers.

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**DH:**It was long, I apologize. Please Review? And if you have any questions…please ask, this oneshot is admittedly long and somewhat sporadic in direction.


	39. Gratitude's Facets

**DH AN:** Firstly, I am profusely sorry for my absence. Secondly, this is different from my other shots as in this piece was originally a oneshot, but I felt the need to update… and the last part of the whole has been giving me issues. I split it in half. This first half has the prompt **Take this, my darling, for the damage I have done. **The second half will be up once the last part cooperates with me. Enjoy **Dinner Date Pt. I: Gratitude's Facets **

**AN 2:** Timeline: Three weeks after the events of **Healing Presence.**

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**#39: Marik & Mhera, Post-Jewelshipping (Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae)**

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**Dinner Date Pt. I: Gratitude's Facets **

I raised my head from the paper covered desk, frowning as I saw a sheet of paper was stuck to my forehead. I sighed ruefully as I gently peeled the paper away from my skin. The stack of paper had made a very poor pillow. I glanced at the mirror in an attempt to see if I looked as tired as I had felt, taking to surveying my room when I found the sense of tiredness wasn't simply imagined.

My eyes quickly moved from the desk to the bed on my right that was visible from the corner of my eye. Sweeping my head to the left, my gaze rested on a set of clothes- a set of clothes that hadn't been there before I took my unprompted nap. Stretching, I rose stiffly from the hard chair and made for the door, stopping when I had one foot on each of the two steps.

The clothes were hung on the inside doorknob. A note was tucked into the black sweater's inner pocket. I stepped back with one foot when I registered the presence of familiar paper before sighing resolutely and marching straight up to the door, a fingertip's distance away from the note. Loosely gripping it, I rubbed the paper gently between my forefinger and thumb; soon relinquishing my two handed hold on the document to run my dominant right hand through my hair once, accompanied by a shaky sigh. The presence of his notes wasn't surprising to any extent. The new outfit that accompanied this note sent me into an emotion that I simultaneously detested and feared; discomfort that was followed closely by slight frustration at my father's nerving lack of clarity.

The black sweater rested over a sleeveless dark blue blouse, which was in front of a pleated longer than knee-length skirt of the same hue. Glancing over to my desk, I saw a new set of gray soft soled shoes and matching socks placed under the chair, away from the tactile radius of my bare feet. That was definitely new. My gaze shifted between the clothing and the footwear, finally stopping on his note. Anything that I was not used to, or not expecting, naturally worried me for about two minutes as scenarios that were none too pleasant ran rampant through my mind; this time was no exception. His notes always came unexpected, but never unwarranted. I placed a hand to my forehead and sighed; I was over-thinking things…again. Plucking the note from its place and wrapping the black sweater around the back of the chair at my desk, I slid my finger under the flap of the envelope and scanned the contents.

**My office. Quarter till seven. Look presentable. R.H.**

I resisted the urge to flinch, wince or cringe, as none of these actions signified anything aside from fear. Even though I knew that the note's brisk nature was anything but intentional… It bothered me. His notes had never been so curt …never so to the point. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had used my desk to write the note and the last fragment was directly referring to his only having a view of the back of my head. With a small groan, I realized that it was written on a sheet of my paper, taken directly from the stack on the small side table by the desk. My paper was stained a lighter shade than his usual note paper, and I confirmed this by pulling several of my prior received notes from the drawer of that same small side table.

This over-thinking had to stop. I sighed as I attempted to use my reasonable rational thought processes rather than entertaining the irrational and often illogical scenarios and excuses that went through my head. He had been tenser than usual the past two weeks since recovering from his illness. I wasn't surprised, nor did I expect anything different; though I wouldn't dare verbally express this to him. He shifted all of his efforts to getting caught up on that week he had missed. There was almost nothing that could break that focus. It was like nothing happened. No illness, no vulnerability; frankly, I was more than relieved.

It was already late afternoon. I'd spent my morning working on a fourth essay, yawning all the way through the process. To my displeasure I had succumbed to my drowsy mind two hours prior. My sleep schedule was a wreck due to a number of factors, but I primarily blamed it on getting three of the nine purposely poor essays rewritten as they should have been the first time within the past week, staying up nights to do so. The reason only three were complete and submitted was -and I absolutely hated to admit this- the last few meetings had bordered on unbearably long; so much so that if I were standing in a more inconspicuous spot, I would have walked out of the last two meetings once they had exceeded an hour and chosen to collapse in a chair in Raji's kitchen. However being in the left section of three made that feat rather difficult, and it was never a way I wished to test my luck. I had this somewhat rational fear that I'd immediately be found out if I tried to cut loose early.

Presuming 'look presentable' meant 'be present in the new outfit provided' among the other more obvious circumstantial implications, I quickly grabbed the hanging clothes and placed them in the bathroom. Returning to my bedroom to grab the other necessities, I ran to the comfort of a warm shower, feeling my worries cease for those twenty minutes I took. I dried myself off with the tan towel, and slipped into my undergarments. Finally, I took an opportunity to feel the fabric of the skirt, delighted that it was soft cotton that would feel pleasant against my skin. I inched my fingers upward to feel the sleeveless blouse, my jaw dropping as I felt that it was satin.

I carefully pulled the blouse over my torso, stepping into the skirt next. I stepped from the bathroom and into my room carefully, noting to my pleasure that the skirt granted me long strides as an option. I stopped when I reached the full length mirror just past the doorway.

I stared mutely at my reflection, fighting the imminent awestruck gasp that lingered on my lips. The outfit not only allowed easy movement, but in addition, it looked neither too tight nor too loose on my body. I felt heat slowly warm my cheeks, simultaneously baffled and somewhat flattered. I slipped the thin black sweater on next. The ebony complemented the blue well, as I had noted when the outfit still hung on its hanger. Pacing away from the mirror to step into the gray socks and shoes, I looked at the entire ensemble from that angle. While not one singular color, the outfit's individual parts did not completely complement each other, but they didn't visibly clash either.

Out of habit I returned his note to the sweater's inner pocket, intent on taking it with me. I didn't know why; he never asked for the notes back, nor did he ensure my presence in his office was necessitated by one of his missives. Sighing softly, I made my trek to the lower corridors, bounding over the two steps and proceeding out my bedroom door, pacing to my left through a hallway leading to the kitchen and taking a right into a second hallway. After pressing a tile in on the left wall, I heard the expected mechanized clicking sound of the seven rows of tiles in front of me descend, each row locking into place deeper than the last, to form the staircase that would grant access to my destination.

I stepped carefully on the foot switch that slid the lower wall aside and returned the upper tiles to their former position. Careful not to step upon that tile twice, I proceeded out of the opening and into the hallway with a soft sigh, motionless as the entryway slid to close behind me. Pulling the sweater a little tighter around me, I turned to my left and clung to the first doorknob I saw. I stood still and silent for a moment before turning the knob and entering through the doorway.

Calmly timing my steps to match my slow deliberate breaths, I made my way towards the second door at the end of the passageway behind the first. I knocked thrice, after which I promptly clenched my hands together and let them fall to cover the edge of my blouse. My eyes focused on the knuckles of my fingers as my mind drifted to a question that I really wanted answered and at the same time dreaded gaining the answer to.

It was more than one question actually. Why had he simply let me sleep rather than waking me? Why was I wearing a new outfit? Why was the note so to the point? I realized it all came to one central inquiry: why.

My gaze leapt to the doorknob as it turned slowly. After the door was opened, I immediately pulled the note from the sweater and turned my gaze to the floor as The R.H.'s voice cut through the silence. "I see you're awake, Sharti."

I mutely nodded, pressing the note towards him. "You wanted to see me, Sir?" I somewhat despised how timid my tone became whenever I used that phrase.

I tensed as The R.H. grasped for the note still gripped with two of my fingers and my thumb. "Would I send a note otherwise without either first making you aware of another purpose or including the alternate reason within the note itself?" His phrase was soft, possessing the air similar to how he would speak if I had been caught with a finger on the tapestry, his tone simultaneously filled with an indescribable wonder and a stern undertone of admonishment.

I shook my head from side to side, inwardly irritated by the implication of something I could not quite pinpoint that his statement brought forth. I felt heat immediately conquer my cheeks as he spoke once more, gently coaxing the paper from my hands.

"You want to understand why the new outfit was present with the note this time?" I nodded, carefully grasping the cotton skirt within my fingers in slight embarrassment. "It suits you, Dear One."

I knew there was a tint of blush on my cheeks as a smile crept across my face. "Thank you, Sir." I murmured, the miniscule embarrassment still in control of my tone.

"There will be no more 'Sir's from your lips tonight, Dear One." I glanced up as he sighed loosely, a small smile fighting in vain to reveal itself on his countenance. "It is not The R.H. who owes you gratitude." It was only then that I noticed the absence of the cloak that usually hung comfortably around his lithe frame, necessitated by both the persona he possessed and the lower temperature in this set of corridors. Instead I saw him in a gray, long-sleeve button-up shirt, a crisp pair of black slacks, and a pair of black shoes. The ensemble seemed to be incomplete somehow.

His voice drew me out of my observations. "If you will step inside my office, Mheralo, I still have one or two more tasks to complete before we depart." Nodding with a slightly resigned sigh, I stepped into the room and took a seat in the central chair. I watched as a Wall-Switch responded to its master's touch, and heard his subconsciously paced steps proceed up the path usually hidden by the bookshelf. The shelf slid back into place as soon as the footsteps ceased at the staircase's zenith.

I was left to ponder another of his facets, this time as The Wall-Switch Lover. Though that facet has never been completely perceivable, it's always been one that has held great interest to me. The facet of Switch-Lover seemed to somehow offer a bridge between that of The R.H., whose whims I am merely subject to, and that of the father I have always known and cherished. I shook my head in denial. To think of his Wall-Switch Lover facet as a bridge between two others made no sense… though maybe there was a bridging persona there that I had yet to identify. This Wall-Switch Lover facet of his was different, yet amazingly the same. When he merely activated the Wall-Switches, there was a sense of awe that I could not quite instill within myself when performing the same action. Perhaps it was because this master knew his system well and I was only presented with a small glimpse. Of course, it could be for some other reason entirely.

I jerked my head to the shelf on my left as I heard the lulling yet oxymoronic hum of the mechanized clicking that signified masterful employment of a Wall-Switch. Now wearing a dark blue tie and a black suit coat a pocket square to match the tie that completed his ensemble, my father covered the distance between the shelf witch and his desk in four long strides. He then took two strides backward and leaned over to press the switch once more, concealing the staircase behind the shelf. He then stepped in front of me. With a small sigh, he plucked a folded piece of his customary notepaper from an inner pocket of the suit coat and pressed it into my hands. "I insist you read it before we proceed any further, Dear One."

With a small sigh, I unfolded the page. I was perplexed at what met me. It was a list whose authorship I would have doubted had it not been in my father's familiar script. I refolded the sheet and placed it into my sweater's inner pocket. With a small sigh, I rose from my seat. "Why a list?" I turned on my heels quickly to face my father. "Why feel the need to present me with this list?"

"Did you even read it?" My father's somewhat warm gaze contradicted the crisp tone of his words.

"I can't." I murmured. "I can't because I know that it will only serve to confuse me further if I know nothing of its purpose."

"You can do nothing to learn of its purpose until you examine it; once you read it, the purpose will become clear."

"You promise?"

"Do you doubt me over such a trivial matter, Dear One?"

"It's not a trivial matter." I tensed, feeling my knuckles start to whiten as I clenched my hands into fists at my side. My next phrases had that softly submissive edge that seemed so right in this situation. "I don't doubt you. It's just that I'm horribly, horribly confused." I shook, turning back and dropping into the chair.

"What confuses you?"

"The past three weeks." I murmured. My father stepped in front of me, kneeling so that he was at my eye level. "Everything within these past three weeks has successfully nerved me to a degree. I just-"

"You've been having nightmares." My father interrupted as he gently laid his right arm over my knees, his hand in a loose fist. He must have noted the dark circles under my eyes.

I blanched. It wasn't nightmares…it was _one _nightmare. It… it never got any more vivid, only more terrifying as I continued to hear that helpless child beg, beg to be spared their fate. And then…oh gods, the screams-the screams bore nothing but pain. Shaking, I pulled my knees into my arms. And…aside from the first occurrence, I was always alone. Alone to feel my stomach churn uncontrollably, and I was truly alone to wish for this horrid nightmare to leave me in peace. "How do you-H-how do you know?" My voice was soft, any louder and I knew I would be in tears.

"When I entered your room earlier to deliver my note, you were shaking in your sleep." He stood and faced his desk. "You do not stir unconsciously when you sleep peacefully." His voice was soft, as if it were a confession of sorts. "I would take it all away." He did not turn back to face me.

My head snapped up as I spoke, my voice soft and crisp. "Forgive me for saying this, but you can't take it all away. Any of it. What I saw…" I held back a sob as the memory of the helpless child then overlaid with that accidental glimpse of those…scars, tattoos-what-whatever those were; they looked as if they should have been carved in stone…rather than flesh. Once more, I buried my face into my hands. And certainly not carved into my father's- My thoughts jarred with this acknowledgement- my father's back.

The sound of a drawer being yanked from the desk pulled me from my thoughts. "I can." My breath hitched slightly upon seeing him draw that golden rod from the drawer. "If you will let me." His piercing gaze held my attention as he took a seat and began absently rubbing his thumb along the gilded surface of the item held loosely in his hand.

"Why do you ask me?" I stood abruptly, shaking. "You could do so without my consent… very easily." I added, lowering my eyes.

"You don't understand."

"What don't I understand, Father?!" I shrieked as I sank into my chair. My voice was soft…submissive. "You never ask…you take. You made that very clear within the first meeting here after the fulfillment of the proposition, Sir. " I flinched as he swiftly stood from his seat, his grip on the Rod instinctively tightening.

"Upon our meeting this evening, you were told that 'Sir' would not be necessary so long as you are within my care during this encounter." His voice was terse as he stepped smoothly around the desk. His voice went softer with his next statement, but the roughness still carried through. "I expect you to abide by it, Dear One." His gaze captured my attention once more. "Stand." He waited until I did as he asked before turning to face the desk once more and motioned for me to step closer with a pointer finger behind his back. Grasping my hand as I stood beside him, he continued. "When we are this…" He directed my attention to the glass top of the desk where our familial resemblances were clearly visible. "When we are this, the rules that were unofficially forged for the dealings between The R.H. and Arlomhe Sharti do not apply." He gently pulled me to face him. "Your mind is perpetually this… and I refuse to alter anything regarding it without your consent."

"What about… that time when I was ten? When I was helping Raji after gaining your permission and…" I shook; the mere idea of this was terrifying. "It was like I never knew who you were until…"

"I requested you dine with me in this very room." My father finished, closing his eyes. "That was a self-serving experiment really."

"Why me?"

"Your memories were easy for me to access. I knew exactly which ones to bind, if you will." I heard my father slide the Millennium Rod over the glass desktop, and saw him take it into his right hand. He held the Rod perpendicular to his arm and level to my eyes, with a very loose grip from underneath it, the nerving eye angled toward his gaze. Without shifting his line of focus, he spoke once more. "Tell me, Mheralo… Do you think that I would truly do you harm with this?"

I didn't- I couldn't- answer. What that object _could _do should be enough of a prevention of anything that merited unpleasant things…and I was not about to back myself into a corner with my answer. I could be proven wrong if I answered no or proven correct if I said yes.

"Do you think me capable of callously robbing you of your will, denying you the right of your instincts that keep you from harm?" I took a step backward and felt his left hand gently pull me at the shoulder so that I was now precariously leaning on my tiptoes. His voice was an anguished whisper. "Do you truly think me capable of breaking you?" His words were painfully hollow as his grip on my shoulder vanished and the hand now merely rested there. He took a step forward allowing me to lean back onto my heels, his eyes pleading for an answer that I could not give him.

"I don't know…" I murmured softly, watching as that pensive expression set far too easily into his face. "You ask me if I believe you are capable of that… I don't believe you are…" I watched him relax, as if he were somewhat relieved. I knew that would change once I finished my statement. "However, I know that you are capable of that, and so much more than I can fathom."

"I suppose the true question is this… do you trust me not to, Mheralo?" My name was uttered softly as my father stepped past me, letting his left hand slowly fall from my shoulder. "I would think that of all the things that I have made you aware of… the one thing that would be most apparent is the one thing that was never directly addressed." He turned on his heel. "I would never even _think_ of laying a finger on you to do you harm." He paced back to his desk, placing the Rod in the drawer, and decisively shut it. "I should never see you doubt that."

"I-I…I know…but…" I stammered, once more sinking back into the chair. "It's just that… I don't want that trust to be misplaced."

I heard my father exhale softly. "I can accept that." He paced to the chair on my right, collapsing into it. I felt a hand clasp my slack one. He rubbed his thumb in a circular motion over the top of my hand. "No one should ever have to confront that possibility."

Sparing a glance to my right, I sighed loosely as I leaned my head lightly on my father's right shoulder. "I'm sorry. I-I -"

He tensed. "Don't apologize." His eyes snapped to mine. "You shouldn't need that realization perpetually hanging over your mind, as it does now." He sighed, surrendering his hold on my left hand to clasp his hands together. "I would like to think that, someday, you will forgive me for that." His left hand dropped to his side while his right one gripped my left shoulder gently. "That list…it's the closest thing to an apology and a thank you that I can offer…"

I imagined that list suddenly weighing heavier in that inside pocket. "Would you mind if I look at it later?" I asked softly.

"If that is what you wish, then I will accept it, Dear One. I suppose it would not be fair of me to watch your reaction; after all, I've seen the list already." He glanced at the gold colored conservative black-faced wristwatch, with the Roman numerals for three, six, nine and twelve, resting on his left wrist. "Now then if you will come with me, that question of the new outfit will be answered." He stood soundlessly. "You will accompany me on an outing tonight." He wrapped a hand around my shoulders, guiding me out of the office and down a hallway I had never traversed.

We then reached a wall and once more The Switch-Lover facet revealed itself, taking us into a large garage. He plucked a set of keys from the glass case after entering a necessary access code, after which he stepped toward a black sedan, his other hand relishing a loose grip on mine. He unlocked the front passenger door and I slipped inside, clicking my seatbelt securely.

The engine came to life with a roar softening to a low purr as the vehicle proceeded, lulling me into a light sleep. Car rides always managed to do that somehow.

I barely registered the vehicle make a somewhat jarring halt. "We're here." My father stated softly. "And there weren't any nightmares during your little nap." He added in a somewhat relieved tone. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and held it there for half a minute, after which he let it slowly drop. He exited the car and came around the back and opened my door. My father offered a hand to pull me from the low car.

"Why are we here?"

"I want to thank you for what you've done in the past three weeks." He sighed loosely, "I figured a nice dinner somewhere with just the two of us would be a step in the right direction…"

"You would have done the same." I turned my attention to my left to avoid his gaze. "So you shouldn't be thanking me." I stated softly.

"And why not?" I caught my father arching a brow with my peripheral vision. "Over the past six years, you have provided more than enough to me that has gone beyond what has been asked of you."

"I had no other choice." I shrank back against the car.

"You always had a choice." My father whispered in my ear. "There are so many things that you took on yourself that weren't your tasks to complete. What happened six years ago would perhaps qualify as the first instance of that trend." He looked towards the building, extending a hand for me to take. "Now then… shall we?" I nodded, taking the offered hand without a thought.

Upon entering the building, a waiter in a green short-sleeve, collared shirt escorted us to an already prepared table for two on a patio, where one could see the faint reflection of the sunset on a small pond. The waiter placed two menus onto the table and left. I stood still, merely arching my eyebrows in surprise. The idea that this was all planned should have ceased to surprise me years ago. My father stepped behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders.

His hands offered me so many things. Comfort, guidance, satisfaction… all of these were liable to present in the gesture. His hands were by no means perpetually gentle, but they weren't perpetually tense. He was inexplicably tender with me, even as The R.H. …something that I could never quite understand.

Something was gripped in his right hand; I could feel his curled fingers on my right shoulder. "I have one more thing to give you before I can consider your outfit complete." He spoke softly as he brought both hands together just above my midsection. He slowly separated his hands, a delicate silver chain somewhat taut within his fingers. My father then carefully brought it to my neck and clasped it. The necklace came to rest near the top of my blouse. There was a round silver pendant with an amethyst set into the front hanging from the chain with a small replica of the Tapestry's coat of arms frosted in a light etching of silver across the smooth-cut gem.

So many questions started running through my head as my father ushered me to sit after he pulled out my chair. I sank into it, after which my fingers continually rubbed the small pendant, attempting to know every detail about the piece. I knew one thing already. It wasn't mine. Just as my father took his seat across from me, a waitress came to ask about beverages.

"Do you have lemonade?" I smiled somewhat apologetically at the waitress. "I haven't had a chance to look at the menu."

"Yes, lemonade is on our menu." The waitress then turned to my father. "And for you, sir?"

"Black coffee, if you would be so kind." My father requested.

The waitress nodded and left.

"You look as though you have something on your mind, Mheralo." My father observed as he removed his suit coat and placed it on the back of the chair.

"Why do you not hold me responsible?" My voice was soft and I felt utterly ashamed to bring this up. I already had my answer…why was I still pursuing it?

"Responsible for what?" He inquired softly.

"This was hers." I shook, fingering the pendant hesitantly in my palms. "You can't look at me without seeing her." I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply before speaking again. "Do you have any idea how painful it is to see that inexplicable longing anguish in your eyes and know that it will never go away?" My voice dropped to a whisper.

"I do…" My father exhaled. "There are days when I can barely stand to look in the mirror." My brows furrowed and I looked to my left as my father continued speaking. "I wouldn't want it any other way." My father stood soundlessly once more. "I want to see your mother in you rather than myself." He stepped behind me once more, slowly running his fingers through my hair. "I can't not see her in you." He sighed softly. "I need to remember her when I see you. I need to remember that she chose… not me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." He whispered. "It's not, nor will it ever be, your fault. Don't bring it up again."

"You know I can't promise that."

"That won't stop me from asking." My father stated as he stepped away from me and reclaimed his seat. "It's more painful to see you doubt."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"I'm sor-" My father tensed and I went mute as the waitress arrived with our beverages. I took to looking at the menu as she set the beverages onto the table.

"Are you ready to order?" I glanced at my father, who hadn't even looked at the menu.

"I will have my usual, Asiya."

"So the kushari, Mr. Sharti?" My father nodded somewhat curtly. The waitress turned to me with a small smile. "And for you, Miss?"

"May I have a small bowl of the vegetable soup and the lentils and rice?"

"Good choice." The waitress smiled again. "I'll get this right in. If you two need anything just holler." Asiya bounced off, her pretty black curls bobbing in time with her steps. I sighed as she bounced right through the door, leaving us to our thoughts for the time being. It was just the two of us, like he wanted. I watched him drink deeply from his mug.

"Did…did you ever treat Mother to evenings like this?" I asked softly, after which I took to sipping on my beverage with glee as the tartly sweet liquid tickled my tongue.

"Many times, Mheralo." My father stated softly. "She always looked so…" His face showed what his vocal reminisce could not. "She would have been proud of who you are." He sighed loosely.

"I know." I stated softly, watching his face soften, the firm lines of his R.H. persona finally loosening. In that moment, he looked younger or at least a bit more relaxed. The stress returned to his face as soon as it had left. He sighed as his hand slid across the table.

"I'm proud of you. From the moment the proposition was presented, you learned well." My father looked at me with half-lidded eyes. "You still have more to learn." He smiled slyly. "You willingly put yourself into the hands of the unknown, trusting that The R.H. wouldn't harm you. You still do." He pulled his hand from the table and let it drop to his side. "You still have no idea how lucky you are."

"Why did you just let me go down into the lower corridors?"

"I don't understand your question."

"Why did you go through all those steps to dissuade me and…deceive me at the same time?" I shook, questions welling in my head that had already been answered but needed answering again. "Why didn't you stop me?" I sighed through gritted teeth. "Why did you even let me go down there after- after that tile broke?"

"Everything was under my control." My father assured me again, as he had countless times when this topic came up in the past. "The R.H. and I _are _one in the same. You have been aware of that for years."

"You aren't the same!" I went livid. "Your… personas- they aren't even separate." My hand went white as I gripped the glass. "One may seem fully expressed, but the other is never absent." I watched whatever expression was on his face slip. He stood and stepped towards the patio railing, his entire body tense. With a small sigh, he crossed his arms, staying silent save for his soft breathing.

"You were never in danger, never in harm's way. I made sure of that."

"Why have I always felt terrified, then?" I furrowed my brows in an attempt to halt the tears that were threatening to show.

"I never taught you not to be." My father murmured. "I've been told that I am naturally intimidating. Clearly, you think so as well." He looked over his right shoulder at me.

"You're not."

"Then why do you cower?" He turned fluidly to face me, tensing and crossing his arms. "I have never lashed out against you…never even thought of laying a hand on you." His voice went softer. "I have never been inexplicably impatient with you." Letting his arms drop to his side, he took two steps toward his seat, gaze fixed on me. "And yet…" He swiftly changed direction and stood in front of me with the fingers of his right hand under my chin before he continued. "You cower when you have no reason to." I felt his fingers leave my chin.

"There is no difference in how you carry yourself." I stated, willing myself to hold my gaze steady with his as he slowly returned to his seat. "You always carry yourself with determination, calculation, and confidence, with no indication of weakness." I kept my eyes on him.

"Go on." My father stated tersely.

"I know enough of what you're capable of." I lowered my gaze, my hands pressed into my lap. "As both Father and Master." I was shocked as my father did not react to the last word of my statement. I heard him set the mug on the table.

"Keep going. You've yet to truly answer my question, Dear One." His voice was now gentle, coaxing.

"The differences worry me." I finished the glass of lemonade. "What remains unchanged… terrifies me."

"Worried and terrified are not the words I would use to describe your behavior, Dear One."

"How would you describe it then?!" I tensed, my grip on my empty glass tightening to the point where my fingers ached.

"Far too careful." He smiled. "Even when you are reckless, you exhibit a great care. It's a caution that has proven useful to you." He sighed. "Your cautiousness, Dear One, comes across as timidity. Timidity is weakness. Your timidity translates my confidence, determination, and dare I say poise into intimidation." His small smile shifted to a full smirk. "You're far too strong to give in to mere confidence." He laced his fingers. "I've seen you stand up to those of my…employ who are truly intimidating without stepping back. You even once stood up to me for being rather… harsh against Nashin of all people, someone who I would think as the last one on your list of those who merit a defense from you."

"Holding grudges isn't healthy." I murmured before popping an ice cube in my mouth to let it melt under my tongue. "Noinreil himself is enough proof of that."

"You seem very forgiving."

"I am forgiving."

"Then why haven't you forgiven me?" My father's casual retort made my blood boil.

Fortunately Asiya came and placed a new glass of lemonade in front of me and wordlessly retrieved the empty one, still with that light bounce in her step. It gave me time to use that carefulness to regain my composure. "Betrayal isn't easily forgivable." My words were cold, blunt… so…-so much like his. "A father keeps their child from harm…not do everything within their power to ensnare them in it!" I watched in horror as he went entirely taut, feeling like I was nine again… only this time I had no idea what mark I had hit. By his reaction, I quickly surmised that I did not want to know.

His eyes met mine, the silently blazing fury within his entrapping the frightened curiosity in mine for only a second. In that instant, the image of those… carvings and the sound of bare feet dragging across that floor coupled with those screams very briefly brushed through my mind. I felt the color and heat leave my face quickly. I stood and excused myself, walking briskly to the restroom.

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**DH: **The second Part will be up as soon as that last part works with me. Please Review.


	40. Revelation's Fragments

**DH AN: ** Well, I finally finished the second part of the two part shot with the prompt: "The 'me' that you wouldn't want to see". Sorry for the wait. Please enjoy **Dinner Date Pt. II: Revelation's Fragments.**

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**#40: Marik & Mhera Post-Jewelshipping (Marik Ishtar X Filiron Rylae)**

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**Dinner Date Pt. II: Revelation's Fragments**

I locked myself in a stall, leaning my back against the door. I knew two things. That was knowledge I wasn't supposed to have. And that it still terrified me. The hallucinations of The R.H. that I suffered with throughout my father's illness had left me… but I inhaled with terror and stood bolt upright as I realized that I had known the answer from the moment I woke from that dream the first time, from the sufferer himself. His words paced through my head as I choked back sobs. _I assure you the child did live on to adulthood, but the physical and emotional scars…those will never fully heal. _I wanted to pity him, pity my closest deceiver. He would never allow it. It was perceived as an action of one who knew another's vulnerability against their wishes and simply desired to placate them in hopes of gaining favor.

I exited the stall, wiping a wet paper towel across my face when I reached the sink. I shook my head vigorously, relieved to see that some color had returned to my face. With a small sigh, I stepped quietly through the crowds of diners. There was this hollow feeling that left me cold when I returned to the table and caught sight of a glass of red wine in place of the mug of coffee my father had nursed throughout the evening. I stood still, watching as he took a sip of the wine, gently swirling the liquid in the glass after, perhaps giving thought to dare I say downing what remained, before setting it back on the table.

"Are you going to just stand there and stare?" I flinched at the tense inquiry; he had every right to react that way. I slowly returned to my seat as he took another sip. I looked out onto the small pond that now reflected stars on its surface. I didn't want to anger him further; something as small as meeting his eyes would surely see that as result.

I heard him consume what remained in the glass. He placed it back onto the table, and once again walked towards the patio edge. "I'm not angry at you."

"Then who are you angry at?" I almost shot back.

He muttered something that I didn't catch. Asking him to repeat it was out of the question.

"It was something I said." I watched him face me.

"That does not make it your fault." He paced carefully back to his seat. "It was a kneejerk reaction, nothing more."

"Then why the wine?" I crossed my arms, almost glaring at the empty glass.

"That is none of your concern."

"You rarely drink. And you've never done so in front of me."

"You, Little Mheralo, know nothing."

I ground my teeth. "I'm not as naïve as you think." My voice went soft with my next statement, "I…I know about those markings on your back and that they _aren't_ ink."

"And just how would you know that?" He asked with narrowed eyes.

"I saw them…" Watching as my father went pale, I was once again assured that fear was something that did not suit him in the least. He gripped the wine glass at its stem, no doubt wishing there was some remaining in it or in want of another glass.

Asiya arrived just in time once again, this time with our dishes. "Hot plate." She stated as a warning when she set the entrees in front of us. She turned to me with a pleasant tone. "I'll be right back with your soup. Why we only have two hands when it seems we should have four continues to elude me." She beamed. The expression quickly left her face when she glanced at my father. "Another glass of wine, Mr. Sharti?" Her voice had dropped to a softer volume as well.

"Please, Asiya." She nodded, retrieved the glass and left. My father's eyes met mine. "Do not let me order a third glass."

I nodded mutely. I suppose that I should have expected a sort of control in regards to his consumption. To my knowledge the instances of his drinking were rare. I was willing to bet that most of those, save for this one, were planned to a certain degree. He was always a planner, everything placed where he wanted, never a step off from the paths he took. To see him deviate from that in any way was truly nerving. He was almost prideful in never letting control of his demeanor slip even for a second. When it did slip…he was different…it was a facet that was rough and unpolished, one that wasn't meant to be seen.

"You have yet to touch your food Dear One." I startled at his voice. "Something different is on your mind now…care to enlighten me?"

"No." I hesitated before adding, "At least not here."

"Fair enough." He responded tartly. My father set down his fork and did something I had never seen him do. He stuffed his hands into his lap and looked at them. I blinked and looked again… I'd always thought I'd gotten that particular habit from my mother. He spoke softly then, refusing to meet my gaze. "How long have you known about the…my…?"

"Three weeks." I murmured softly as Asiya brought my father his second glass of wine and set it in front of him. I caught sight of my soup resting on the patio railing. Asiya then placed the soup in front of me and stepped back inside, without her light bounce. I spooned some of the soup onto the rice and left it to cool, sipping on my lemonade.

"Three weeks when?" My father inquired softly.

"You were ill." I watched as he moved to rather nonchalantly sip wine from his glass; it was a manner that sent my hands immediately into my lap and my chin to my chest. "I-I had to check on you… the top sheet was tangled on the other side of the bed and your shirt had been tossed onto the floor…" I inhaled sharply as my hair fell into my face, wishing that the brief images of the markings weren't ingrained in my memory. "I saw them then."

"And your nightmares started shortly after that?" My father dug into his plate, narrowly avoiding getting tomato sauce on his nice dress shirt.

I shook my head. "Before." My voice was a whisper. I started eating the remaining soup in the dish as I watched my revelation sink in. "And it's been one nightmare."

"When Mheralo?"

"It was after you ordered me to bed…before you were out of yours to console me."

"You have been this troubled for three weeks?" His voice dropped to a whisper as his almost terrified gaze met mine. "And you never bothered to tell me?"

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to…"

"Were you thinking you could keep a secret from me?" My soup almost went down the wrong pipe as I processed his question. It sounded light… I surmised that it would be best to attribute that to the wine. His questions were meant to be answered seriously.

"You're quite able to pick up on subtleties," I watched him tense at that last word, though I had no idea why. I exhaled slowly before trying a different approach. "You can't honestly be saying that the same one who saw the faintest trace of doubt on my face when I took their proposition doesn't notice that I've been a little off."

"I would only notice if you slacked in areas." He murmured, sipping at the wine. "As you had yet to do so and were still holding your own, I had no concern or reason to keep watch over you." He laced his fingers after setting the glass down.

"You've forgiven yourself then?" I let the inquiry escape.

"For what?"

"For what happened four years ago." My voice was soft as I watched him, his whole body rigid and his face pale again. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I stood and stepped towards the patio railing. Why couldn't I keep from making him react? I heard calculated footsteps come and stop behind me. He rested his head on my right shoulder.

"I haven't." He stated softly. "A father _is_ supposed to keep their child from harm." He pulled me to face him. "When I wasn't able to do that for you when it mattered…I was- I was terrified." His hands fell from my shoulders as he stepped back smoothly. "That's why I was so…overprotective…"

"I wouldn't want it any other way." I sighed loosely. "I'm glad you're protective." I snickered lightly. "It means you won't let me get kidnapped."

"That is no laughing matter." He stepped back to the table, collapsing into the chair. I followed suit. My stomach spoke what I'd been denying all evening. I attacked the plate with vigor. Putting the vegetable soup with the lentils and rice made for a great combination.

The plate was soon spotless. I sighed softly, content. I watched as my father swirled his wine glass, the liquid sloshing against the sides. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize," My father set the glass back onto the table.

"Let me finish!" I tensed. "This was supposed to be a nice pleasant dinner, and clearly…" I eyed the wine warily. "It wasn't quite that."

"I wouldn't go as far as to say it hasn't been pleasant, Dear One." My father exhaled loosely. "I do enjoy spending time with you without a desk between us." He smiled wryly. "The instances happen so rarely."

"I guess it's not bad for a… first date." My father's expression was split between horror and fighting back a laugh. I entertained a smile. It was a small victory of positivity amid the poorly chosen conversation topics of the evening.

Asiya slowly stepped up to the table. "Are you…ready for your bill,… Mr. Sharti?"

My father nodded slowly and Asiya left. He turned his attention back to me, his eyes focused on the pendant hanging from my neck with loose interest. "I proposed to her here. Or at least, that was my intention." The light laugh that left him sounded somewhat forced. "For all my planning, I temporarily misplaced the ring." My lips curled into a small smile as he continued. "I had left it in the car and wasn't about to go get it just to return, propose and leave."

"Did she laugh at you?"

"The most she did was blush." My father mused, his tone once more reminiscent. "She also made a point to mention that I was sometimes far too stubborn for my own good." He sighed.

"You miss her." My smile shifted into an expression that I was sure bore resemblance to the pensive one I had seen so often from the one who sat across from me.

"Every single day, Mheralo." His voice was soft and hushed as he swept his suit coat back over his shoulders as a chill had settled in the air. "I have told you this so often before." He stood and stepped over to the railing again. "Why do you continue to make this observation when you know it pains you to see that longing that will never leave me only strengthens when it's brought to light?" I almost didn't catch the single tear that ran down his face.

I slowly stood. I took a step and then stopped, unsure if I could offer any comfort to my father without it coming across as pity.

"That pendant was her anniversary gift the year that you were born." My father stated without preamble as he glanced at me. His voice was soft with his next statement. "I never could have fathomed that I would lose my heart four months and four days later."

I shook, attempting to blink back tears with no success. I choked back sobs, somewhat furious that they wouldn't cease. Under different circumstances, he would have said this was weakness. He'd told me something to that effect far too many times that it was now impossible to not be ashamed of it. Perhaps that had been his goal all along. I wondered how long it would take him to see that it had been successful.

"I've upset you." I heard his voice above me. His hands landed gently on my shoulders. Seeking something to keep my fingers busy, I reached to rub my forefinger and thumb against the soft fabric edges of the suit coat. With each rhythmic repetition, my emotions seemed to settle and my shaking ceased for a second. Without hesitation I turned and buried my head in his shoulder and clung to him, too overcome by the fact that my tussling emotions had finally settled on overwhelming grief to notice that he held me tightly in the same manner.

The sound of his slow careful breathing put me at ease and was probably the only thing that kept me from soaking his suit with tears. He ran his right hand gently through my hair once and stepped away from me to pay the bill that Asiya had left on the table without interrupting. I watched as he quickly penned the necessary information onto the receipt. He stood, body loose and relaxed as he waited for Asiya to retrieve the bill.

When Asiya returned, her curls were bouncing again. "Everything was to your liking?"

My father smiled. "It was excellent as per usual, Asiya." He paused for a moment. "I am certain that my company thinks so as well." He cocked his head towards me, at which I nodded enthusiastically in agreement. He flashed a small smile. "Thank you for the service."

Asiya smiled as she retreated back inside, bill in hand.

My father sighed loosely as I stepped toward him. I pressed my hand into his. After two seconds, he slowly stepped away, his hand slipping out of mine without a word. I followed him as he paced briskly through the building. He stopped immediately upon meeting the outside air once more. He looked straight ahead, as he uttered one sentence. "Walk with me."

I waited as he paced along the sidewalk for a few seconds before stuffing my hands into the sweater's pockets and resignedly following his lead, keeping a steady distance between us. He stopped and I subconsciously halted. Turning to face me, my father spoke again. "When I told you to walk with me, I did not mean for you to pace behind me." He pulled me in line with him. He sighed softly, turning back to face away from me and started walking. "Now, walk _with_ me."

I stared at the sidewalk as we continued forward. A hand on my right shoulder jolted my gaze to a small hemisphere area formed by stone and in a set of three steps. His hand dropped from my shoulder and he stepped forward and sat on the first step. I needed no heeding to move to sit on his right.

"There is something you want." His hand slid over mine. "Do you care to tell me what that is, Dear One?"

I hesitated. I could probably ask for anything…

I sighed with relief as his thumb rubbed in a circular pattern repetitively on the back of my hand. His patience was somewhat rare when there was no incentive for him. The slight contact ceased after a moment. "What do you want, Mheralo?" He looked at me with his still wine-warmed eyes, voice softer with his next statement. "Surely there must be something more that I can do to show the…" He paused to find the right word, an action that was rather unusual for him. "…adequate amount of gratitude."

"You can't act as if three weeks ago never happened around me." My right hand curled into a fist. "I can understand your behavior around your employ." I shook. "But… I suffered too. I watched you suffer, watched as you were unable to encourage or prevent your vulnerabilities from surfacing." I paused for a moment. "Why would you deny that those exist, when I've seen them?"

"Those are unimportant." He shrugged it off.

"You have your own nightmare." I stated calmly. I was certain that his mildly intoxicated state was the sole reason for his lack of a physical reaction. "It has… quite an effect on you…"

"That is nothing to concern you." The sentence was harsh and blunt as he went slightly taut.

"You were shaking and woke up in a cold sweat." I hesitated, my eyes sweeping over his face. "That hushed whisper when you asked me if I had heard anything told me that it wasn't nothing… that was terrifying to hear." He stood and stepped down the two remaining steps, looking onward. "That and your reactions now are proving that it affected you quite adversely."

"You shouldn't know any of this." He stated tersely as he eyed me over his shoulder.

"But I do." My voice was soft as he spun on his heel to face me.

"Against my wishes." He muttered hotly.

"I-I didn't-" I shook as he stepped toward me.

He placed a hand on my left shoulder and returned to take his prior seat. "Nothing of this is yours to know, Sharti." I was unsure if my father's use of that particular moniker was intentional.

"I did not want to know. So feel free to take it back, Sir." I tensed as his fingers dug into my shoulder. I didn't even need to look at him to know that he was inwardly seething at my use of that address.

My father huffed softly, standing soundlessly after. "I believe that it is time for us to depart."

We paced back to the car. He held the car door open for me once more. I clambered into the car, stuffing my hands into my lap. My father wordlessly slid into the driver's seat and started the car. I did not speak either, choosing instead to look out the window until the lights of the city faded from view.

"You never did answer my question, Dear One." He paused for a moment as he turned onto a worn path of a road that I assumed would take us back home before asking his question. "What do you want?"

"Out of what choices?"

"I have no intention of offering you any choices." He stated pointedly as he shut off the car before continuing. "If I offer choices, I limit you. Presently, there are enough of those to deal with." He paused, looking out the window, seeming a tad distracted. "Don't you think?"

"A week without meetings would be nice." I murmured, leaning my head back on the headrest.

"Consider it done." He spoke so softly that I was tempted to ask him to repeat it, but his next words soon clarified enough. "I shall personally write a set of minutes and briefly meet with you in private."

"I was joking."

"I am not. I quite think you've earned a little respite." He paused, wrapping his right hand around my headrest. "I'm tempted to insist you take two. What I don't quite understand is how you stood through those long meetings without sparing thought to seating yourself in the kitchen midway through."

"How did you know that?"

"The kitchen within the lower corridors has always been among your favored places of comfort, Dear One." My father smirked. "As for how I know, you just told me." The expression vanished. "As for why exactly you favor the kitchen, I do not yet understand."

"It always feels like a home should. That kitchen is always warm and inviting with someone who is always excited to have company." I smiled at the thought of Raji. "Sometimes I'm honestly just glad that there's someone to help me with…gender problems."

I heard the light jingling of his earrings as he nodded in acknowledgement. "Raji Rejorahl is someone I can grant certain details of information and rest assured that those details will be safe with her." He removed his arm from the headrest and restarted the car. "You have no idea of the relief that knowing you are safe with her brings me."

"Does she know?"

"Does she know about what, Dear One?"

I paused as the car went over a small bump. "You must have told someone." I clutched loosely at the skirt once more. "I am under the impression that Raji- that she knew my mother somewhat well." I wrung my hands. "She knew that I was her daughter."

He sighed softly. "She knows you are mine." He paused. "Raji has been aware of that for seven years."

The only sound was the lulling hum of the car as it approached the complex which was snugly concealed into a seemingly natural plateau and there were at least three layers within that I knew about. I blanched slightly as I caught sight of the room that was missing its eastern facing wall. I was jostled from my thoughts as the tires briefly ran over a different texture… it wasn't a bump but it was not the familiar feeling road that I had grown accustomed to. I pursed my lips and attempted to figure it out.

"The entrance is concealed via a pressure plate which must be activated twice, in most cases by two tires." My father stated as he drove into the garage. He shut off the car as the outer wall slid to a close. "It closes by use of a laser, also only activated after two interruptions within a reasonable amount of time." He stepped out of the car, his back to the door. "Open your door."

I did as asked and he locked both doors with a button and shut the driver's side door. He stepped around to meet me. He knelt to my eye level. "Now, there is the small matter of this knowledge that is not yours."

I merely nodded as he stood and replaced the keys in the glass case and slowly stepped into the halls of the complex. Standing and pushing the passenger door shut, I followed after my father until he stopped at his office. "I will be in your room in thirty minutes to both remedy your predicament and further discuss the terms of your time without meetings." He plucked his office key from a suit pocket, quietly unlocking the door. "I expect you ready."

I sank slightly underneath his gaze. "I had a nice time this evening." My fingers once again sought comfort in the fabric of my skirt as I felt a light heat invade my face. I watched as he nodded somewhat curtly and entered into the concealed hallway, locking that door behind him. I plunged my hands into the sweater's pockets as I paced back to the upper corridors, taking the necessary Wall-Switches simply by habit.

Stopping by my bedroom door, I leaned my back against the wall with a sigh, terror unwillingly seeping through it. I knew how this situation would be dealt with, and I was more terrified than I imagine I would be… had I been caught unawares. I knew exactly how this knowledge that wasn't mine would be taken, revoked, hidden or concealed… I didn't know what the exact remedy was… I only knew that I would have no memory of my nightmare when all was said and done.

With a small sigh I stepped into my room, swapping the nice clothing for a soft gray short sleeve shirt and a soft pair of black long pants and stuck my bare feet snugly into my tan slippers. I gave thought to picking up the pen and getting another portion of that still incomplete essay written. I somewhat begrudgingly decided against it, choosing instead to sit on the bed and wait.

He knocked thrice. "It's open." I murmured, my eyes focused on a few floor tiles as his calm calculated footsteps echoed across the floor.

Raising my head when the footsteps ceased, I watched as he set a tan, and a deep blue mug onto my desk. "I brought you some tea, Dear One. I hope that it's to your liking."

"You didn't have to do that."

"It's become a bit of a habit to have a warm beverage while we discuss things of this nature." He stated before taking a sip from the tan mug and setting it on his right, leaving the blue mug on his left. I blanched, catching sight of the cloak that hugged his frame, where I knew the Millennium Rod was concealed. I watched as he smoothly stepped over towards me with the blue mug in hand. He sat on my left, passing the mug towards me. "You look as though you need it, my Mheralo."

I sipped my tea silently as he stood and stepped back to the desk. His posture straightened as he slipped into a frank business tone. "Your two weeks sans meetings is to be one for you to recuperate.-"

"I only asked for one…"

"I am insisting you take two." The phrase was forced, his controlled demeanor slipped only for a moment. I shook as he continued as if he'd been uninterrupted. "As this is a period of rest, your essays will wait as well, as will all of your other organization duties." He inhaled softly and faced me. "Is that understood?"

"Yes." I set the mug onto the floor, once again tucking my hands into my lap with my eyes focused on them. "Is there anything else?"

He turned back to face the desk, voice possessing a soft edge. "There is still the matter of the knowledge that is not yours, Dear One." I paled as he drew the Rod from the left side of his garment.

"Let me see them."

He flinched. He certainly had not been expecting that. He spun on his heel to face her, the Rod suspended by its bat-like wings on his forefinger and thumb. "And why should I accommodate this request?" He snarled.

She was silent. He paced in front of her, stopping to tilt her chin up with two of his fingers. Acceptance and a slightly childlike curiosity lingered in her eyes. He spoke softly. "I suppose it was inevitable, your finding out something of this." Releasing her chin, he stepped back toward the desk to set the Rod onto it. He afforded her a one-eyed glance over his right shoulder. "Very well."

He slid his cloak off his right shoulder until the entirety of the cloth was balled around his left fist, his bare back exposed for her to see. He expected the resulting gasp, but not what she said next.

"That child…in my nightmare…th-that child…was you…" He saw through the reflection of the mirror that she was shaking and her eyes were wide with fright, quickly filling with tears that she attempted to keep at bay and her countenance was as close to white as possible. He sighed with closed eyes, somewhat unable to bear watching the girl attempt to process all the pieces she now had, pieces that would soon be taken from her.

His eyes snapped open as he heard eight very hesitant footsteps and he watched the girl close the distance between them, once again through the mirror, a small bit of the pallor subsided. He quickly grasped her right wrist hard in his right hand. "And what do you think you're doing?" He inquired with a dangerously soft voice. "If I recall correctly, you asked to see them and nothing more."

He felt her wince under his grip and attempt to break loose of it. "L-let go...please."

"No." His eyes narrowed. "Not until you tell me what you were intending to do." He felt her breath quicken.

"I wasn't thinking. I-" She tried to free herself again.

"What were you going to do?" His inquiry was short and clipped as he roughly yanked her hand forward. Waiting for her to speak, he noted that her fingers were outspread, fingertips as erect as they would go so long as her digits were extended, as if to touch a very fragile tapestry taking great care to prevent an accidental snag.

"I'm…If you could forgi-forgive me…Si-Fath-" He watched, mildly amused at her slight frustration as she shook her head and struggled to find the right address for the situation.

"Curiosity is understandable." He murmured softly. "That's nothing to be apologetic for." He knew exactly what she was about to do and it somewhat angered him. His stern gaze softened slightly as he almost threw back her hand after a few moments of seething at her audacity. A twinge of guilt struck as he watched her vigorously rub her prior captured wrist, trying to mask the pain. "Your attempts at understanding this more than you already do will produce nothing new, Dear One." His voice was soft as if he wanted to prove himself wrong.

"W-will you let me touch?" She hesitated, drawing her hand back a little further. "I-I promise I'll be gentle."

He watched her once more through the mirror's reflection. He had seen her eyes sweep over his back twice, once with terror as the pieces swiftly came together and then the second, slower sweep, her eyes wide with…pity. He was hoping to see some other reaction, but pity was all that he found. Despite this, he nodded gently.

He flinched at her light touch on the left side of the wing shaped marking that spanned his shoulder width, running a finger to its right end. She then moved to touch each of the squared sections, exhibiting special care on the two sections that bore text. She traced her finger along the engraved ankh in the middle of his back, after which she stepped away slowly and sat on her bed, chin tucked to her chest.

He swept the cloak back over his shoulders, silent for a moment, turning to face her after. "Why did you ask… when merely seconds earlier you were so intent on taking that from me?" He inquired.

"I wasn't thinking." She stated softly. She was startled as he again turned to face the desk, the purple cloak snapping lightly.

"Curiosity is an interesting thing. It brings one to seek with anything at their disposal." He exhaled softly. "It often forces courtesy into the back of one's mind." He took two steps back. "I appreciate that your curiosity was only there for a moment before your courtesy rushed to your aid."

The girl said nothing.

A slight scent of spiced vanilla wrapped around his mind. "You're perfumed, Dear One." He inhaled the faint scent again, successfully fighting a reminiscent smile. He spun on his heel to face her.

"I thought it would please you." She murmured, voice soft with realization.

"Cinnamon." He stated softly as the girl arched her brow. "Its fragrance suits you far better than your current selection." She nodded, looking away, for which he was grateful. He could not-would not show that the gesture had touched him. His beloved's favored fragrance soothed his perturbed mind far more than he would ever acknowledge.

"I will remove my current selection if that is what you wish, Sir."

He nodded curtly in approval, watching her leave. He seated himself in the chair and caught sight of an unfinished essay, after which he placed the papers in the single central drawer; she wouldn't need to use any time on those for two weeks. With a sigh, he absently traced faint circles on the surface of the desk with his pointer finger. On his last flourishing trace, he drew a far larger ring than intended and the wing of the Millennium Rod hooked on his finger and was absently flung away, the only indication being a few clinks as the object bounced and rolled towards the steps leading out of the room.

His daughter returned to the room, steps slow and deliberate. She froze upon sight of the Rod's unnerving eye, face draining of any color gained in her brief respite. He stood and stepped towards the stilled girl and the object at her feet. "You still doubt." He stated softly. Without shifting her gaze, she nodded shakily in affirmation. He wrapped his arms around her, voice soft and gentle. "You know you have nothing to fear." His voice gained an edge as he released her and picked up the Rod that was at her feet, moving to conceal it out of her sight. "That is…unless you step out of line." He stepped away from her. "You and I know there is no chance of that happening." She took a seat on the bed and watched him reclaim the chair, squirming as he smirked slightly. "You're far too careful to allow it."

He watched the girl shift her gaze to the tiles at her feet. "What do you want me to do… to make this easier for you?" The girl asked softly as she fell back onto the bed.

"It's a matter of not causing you pain." He stated softly as he stood. "I need you to relax completely." He pulled the Rod into his hands and turned to face her. To his dismay, she tensed, terrified. He sighed, pacing toward her to take a different approach. _**"Sleep, Dear One, sleep."**_He drawled softly.

He watched the girl's eyelids grow heavy in response his voice; smooth, hypnotic, soothing, and coaxing. Those were the intonations that he found best to use when persuading or assuaging her. He sighed with relief as she drifted off to sleep. He rubbed the back of his hand delicately against her cheek. To ruthlessly rip this newfound, albeit forced, serenity from her was borderline unforgivable. She loosely grabbed two of his fingers in her hand and he couldn't help a small smile.

He winced as the girl's grip on his fingers suddenly tightened. He pulled away from her grasp as her breathing quickened. It wasn't too soon after that sweat started to dapple her brow. He couldn't discern whether he needed to be forceful or calm. He only knew that he needed to know about her nightmare and take it away from her. He watched as she helplessly tossed and turned.

When he couldn't bear watching any further, he placed a gentle hand on her cheek. The action stilled her, save for the minute shaking. Her breathing slowed. He rubbed her cheek gently with the back of his hand. "You? Scared?" He whispered delicately, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. "I dislike that image." He showed a small smile. "But you already well know that." The smile left as he folded his hands over the one of hers that was now draping on the side of the bed. "I wouldn't turn a blind eye when you truly are scared." A smaller smile showed. "You know that as well." The expression left as soon as another bout of tossing and turning hit. _**"Show me what you are afraid of then, Arlomhe." **_

He exhaled softly, unsure whether worry or relief was prevailing when he found no defense against his entry. He realized he had lied with the reason he refused to alter anything within her mind. Minds were constantly in flux. That was not what he wished to protect, at least not primarily.

Minds were as delicate as they were malleable. True, there were some like concrete, but if one found a crevice, a wedge could break through that defense rather easily. However, there were also those that were easily trusting, and easily manipulated. Sometimes it was constant in a mind, one extreme or the other. He sighed as he felt the strings of her mind untangle, opening to him. Then there were those minds that were anywhere in between or hybrids of the two, but the most dangerous in terms of accidents were dealing with minds that were never predictable as to which category it was in. He wouldn't care under any other circumstance if he had to rip a mind apart.

Not this one.

He wouldn't even give thought to settling the thoughts stirred and disturbed subconsciously or consciously by use of the item at his disposal.

Yet, he had chosen so for this one. For her. He exhaled once more as he entered her mind, her weak whimpers resounding through the recesses. Never quite able to cope with her cries and what they implied, he continued following the sound thread that would lead straight to the girl's nightmare. He rounded a corner, thankful the girl's mind was naturally easy to navigate. He skidded to a stop before a door at the end of a long hallway. He tried to turn the doorknob only to find the door was locked. To his further alarm, the doorknob was warmer than room temperature would allow. In that moment, it was forgotten that he could easily open the door without physical damage as he struck the door with his whole weight repeatedly until the door gave way.

The heat of the room enveloped him first. His eyes then caught sight of the girl curled into a ball on the hard floor, weak sobs coming from her crumpled form. She appeared smaller, more childlike… as if six years and any resulting confidence and poise were taken from her. He had seen this child before; within the room that held the tapestry far longer than it was the room of a proposition's fulfillment.

He noted with mild apprehension that the girl paid no visual attention to the scene before her. It was only the auditory details that put her in this state. Sweat dripped from his skin after a moment; it did not matter whether it was caused by the suffocating heat of this room or by his own fear that he had thought buried years ago. He stepped towards her with slow and somber paces as to not frighten her further. Setting a tentative hand on the shaking girl's right shoulder, he was then assailed by the same auditory details.

Loud outcries with an undertone of utter fear, feet attempting to resist the slickness of a millennia-worn stone floor and finally, the weak and futile calling for a rescuer.

He pulled her to face him and shielded her eyes from the hazy sight of shadows on the torch lit wall. Gathering the whimpering little one into his arms, he stepped backward towards the doorway. Only after he had stepped over the threshold did he hear his own ragged breathing. He knelt, setting her down against the wall.

"Why save me again?" The girl had opened her eyes slowly. "Why, Sir?" Her voice was soft, somewhat weak.

"Why call me by that, rather than use my other title?" He asked softly.

"Your use of the anagram; it's the only way you could be here."

"Let me take you to a better dream then." He offered, taking the girl into his arms again and stepping out of the hallway. He turned another corner and halted before a doorway. With a loose sigh he dropped her lightly to her feet, supporting her with a firm grip on her shoulders. "I trust that I can leave you here while I tend to other matters. I will retrieve you once I have forged that better dream I promised." He slowed her descent to the floor, wishing he could comfort. A small, sad smile was the best he could do and he turned away at he caught sight of the girl showing that same expression.

He left her and returned to the now abandoned hallway. The door had been replaced, but it was simply a weak mental defense that would need reinforcement. The girl would be responsible for that. He knew it would take time. The task before him weighed heavily on his heart. She was fragile and delicate in all the wrong places. Even when she resisted mental invasion, the efforts were weak. One misstep… the results would be beyond repair.

He didn't need that now. With a moment of absolute silence, he prepared for the task that lay ahead. The memory was his and he _should _ take it from her, but an absence of that dream and the memory that granted more dimension- it would leave more gaps than mere concealment of them both. Granted, concealment had its major drawback. It would be forged through the one major connection: the girl's alias; it was his access and crucial to any action he took. That tie wasn't completely indissoluble but it was tight enough that unless there was a detrimental break in her psyche, it would serve his purpose to keep that information from her.

The threads unraveled for him once more. He carefully fingered the delicate strands, seeing their connections, some of which he had never seen. There was only one connection he was after and he found it quickly. He drew it away from its web and replaced it within the portion strictly for her alias, an action that would effectively conceal it from her. The wall slid in front of the weak door and he turned on his heel to return to his daughter. He stopped upon seeing her still leaned against the wall and chased away those memories of the last time he saw her in that position. He needed her to forge the dream. He would merely be the conduit providing support and energy, if it came to it. Dreams were a bit like magic, requiring energy and a strong center. The ordeal had taken a good portion of that necessary strength and confidence from her.

He knelt before her, offering a hand. The girl merely leaned into him, still exhausted. He ran the fingers of his right hand gently through her hair before standing and carrying her to an empty corridor. He slumped to the floor, careful of the girl in his arms. He set the girl on the floor and brushed her hair aside. "I need you, Dear One," He whispered. "Help me forge your dream."

He stood and gently pulled her to a kneeling position, ensuring his hands were planted squarely on her shoulders. He sat to her right, his legs sprawled on her left side. She leaned her head back onto his chest. He heard a slow delicate waltz, and energy left him in slow small amounts; she was hesitant. "Take as much as you need Dear One. I will be fine." He whispered in her ear, a small smile showing as he heard the waltz crescendo and pick up speed and the energy pull was a little stronger. He felt new strands and threads weave together in a symphony, one that he needn't understand completely, if at all. A room with a door formed around them, after which he stood and stepped away from the girl to exit the new room. It was her dream, her own threads, her sanctuary. He had no reason to be there. He stepped out of the room, still dancing to the light soft waltz. He stepped away, as if he'd never been there at all. He was silent as the strands of his daughter's mind rewrapped to form a defense that he could never bring himself to break by force. He collapsed into the bedroom's single chair. The small waltz still lingered in his mind as sleep took him in its embrace.

* * *

**DH: **Finally done with this. This will be my last update for a while. Hope you guys enjoyed it and so so so sorry it took so long. Thank you and please review.


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